Oaklandish Living

Oakland grows on me a bit more each day.  It is just a short hop, skip, and a jump across the bay to San Francisco, but it might as well as be a different world.  San Francisco is cultured, but still pretty white and yuppy, while Oakland is also incredibly diverse, but primarily African-American, Hispanic, and poor.  San Francisco is twice as expensive as Oakland and twice as safe.  It is probably twice as crowded too.  San Francisco is known as "the city," while Oakland is just Oakland, and most people who work here don't live here.  San Francisco is about twice as well off as Oakland with some pretty swanky areas.  It is probably as twice as clean as Oakland too.

But despite being known as San Francisco's cast-off step-child, Oaklanders have immense pride in their city, and rightly so.  Does that include me now too?  I am registered to vote here, registered my car here, and have a California driver's license.  For better or worse, Oakland is now my city and home. 

Each morning I stumble out my door in my quiet, sleepy neighborhood and climb into my car for the relatively short drive into downtown for work.  I am surrounded by windy, narrow roads, and trees--gorgeous pines, oaks, and eucalyptus that you can smell even through the closed car windows.  It is nearly 10 degrees cooler up in the hills in comparison to the flatlands below.  After about half a mile, I crest a hill where there is a view of the entire Bay Area that still nearly takes my breath away.  Spread out before you, you can see Oakland in all its grit and grandeur, while San Francisco with its skyscrapers and misty hills stands in close proximity.

I wend my way down out of the hills which takes a good two miles.  Then I squeeze my little car into a nonexistent empty space in all the traffic on the highway and cruise right on into town.  As I drive, the scenery grows increasingly urban and congested.  I bounce along over all the potholes, under several freeway bridges, and onto the edge of downtown.  Oakland is already in full swing by this point.  You see fresh piles of rubbish and amazingly artistic graffiti "tags" in some very creative places.  Homeless individuals are already perched alongside the traffic lights with their signs.  Signs for Korean groceries, African-American wigs, and cash advances all compete for attention in a variety of languages.  I cautiously drive toward my usual parking garage, making sure to stay alert as people wander out into the middle of traffic carrying an assortment of canes, scooters, grocery carts, children, bags of clothing, etc.  Having to be super vigilant so early in the morning really wakes you up fast!

Then I cruise into the parking garage with my monthly pass and wave to the attendant.  After parking, I hurry out of my car, since I'm always on the verge of not being on time.  I walk past a center for the blind, empty storefronts, the gorgeous art-deco Paramount Theater that is still in use, and to the busy corner next to our office building that has a light rail station.  That street corner is a blur of color and activity.  About twice a month, you can see dozens of people of every color and nationality clutching little American flags on their way to citizenship ceremonies at the theater.  Cars speed by, buses rumble past, and bicycles speed along.  Everyone is going somewhere.

After waiting at the corner for the walk signal, I join a small crowd of people surging through the crosswalk.  I walk past construction workers, businessmen, fashionable girls in trendy clothes, the poorest of the poor, and everyone talking on their smartphones.  Then I reach the boxy black building from1968 that is home to my office.  I walk through the door, grab a free newspaper from the lobby of the Oakland Tribune, say good morning to the security guard, glide up the elevator, and rattle around my purse trying to find the key to get me into the office.  And I'm at work!  Just like that.  I'm exhausted just writing this!

Oakland was once a grand city, especially in the 1920s and 1930s.  Most of the buildings and apartments are art-deco.  Some have been restored, some look like they might give up any day.  The landscape of the city is so unique, but so are the people. Some folks will chat all day with you, but others can be downright mean.  Each day and conversation is different.

Here are some of the most memorable characters I have interacted with over the past week:

-Smog check man. He probably wins the award for colorful.  I took my car into a tiny neighborhood smog check place to get the required testing and certification the state requires.  It was in the middle of a neighborhood that doubles as both Chinese retirement community and urban jungle for not very well off residents.  One man who was there getting a smog check also happens to own his own car repair place.  He was about 40, wore a mechanics uniform, very nice shoes, a gold chain necklace, and gold sunglasses.  He had brought in his 1994 gold Lexus, which he assured me was only one of five cars he owns.  Of course he wanted to chat with me for a good half hour about everything under the sun.  As the Middle Eastern man conducted the eternally long smog test on my car in the concrete, cobwebby garage, my new gold chain necklace friend was very chatty.  As we nearly choked on car exhaustion, elderly Chinese people hobbled by the open garage door in an endless stream, and my friend told me all about his life, how he loves to eat lobster, wants to take me to lunch and dinner that day, wants to also show me the San Jose flea market, and how he cleans up really nicely.  He was also so impressed that I drove a manual.  Somehow I managed to escape without committing to a date or getting the hug he offered.  And I passed the smog check!

-Bhutanese refugees. A couple of my friends have been very active in the Bhutanese/Nepalese refugee community, which is still quite small in the U.S.  They knit with some of the women, sell their handiwork online, and work with the church plant among their community.  These joyful people come from some of the most closed and isolated countries in the world.  They have fled political and/or religious persecution.  Last night I tagged along with my friends to the Bhutanese music night, which was a social gathering in Oakland of the Bhutanese community.  I have never been around anyone from this remote mountain nation.  Elderly men and women were dressed warmly in colorful hats and scarves.  Young women were dressed in gorgeous, traditional hand-made dresses of reds, yellows, and greens.  Young men who have probably only recently entered Western culture, wore jeans, plaid shirts, and gelled up hair.  Little children in a mish-mash of traditional and American clothes ran wild around the Elks lodge that had been built by old white men in the 1800s.  The entertainment for the evening included a ceremony honoring the elderly people, which was very touching, and series of performances of Bhutanese dances, rock music, and singing.  We ate rice and some really great Bhutanese food consisting of meat still on the bone and super spicy potatoes.  I sat at a table of petite women and girls who thrust their squirming baby toward me, and I was able to prevent him from falling off the table head first.  I definitely think I found some friends.  Although my own country can frustrate me so often, it was a delight to be among people who had found freedom for the first time in their lives.            

-Eager Chinese college students. On Tuesday my coworker and I jumped on the light rail and headed deeper into Oakland.  We found our way to a college classroom filled with accounting students, most of them straight from China.  We made a presentation about volunteering with our free tax preparation program for low-income individuals and families across the Bay Area.  My heart swelled as I stood near the chalkboard in the sweltering classroom looking out over the sea of Asian faces.  Their enthusiasm, level of English, and clothing reminded me of my sweet students in China.  Practically all of them waved their hands eagerly in the air when I asked if any of them were interested in volunteering as tax preparers or interpreters.  Student after student peppered us with questions.  It reminded me of my love for Asia and also how much I enjoy my job here.

Last Sunday I was talking to the pastor of the church I've been going to.  He and his wife left their comfortable lives in an Atlanta mega church about a decade ago to plant churches in Oakland.  They had started praying about where to go when they were sitting on the couch of their nice suburban house in Georgia one evening.  He said, "Do you hear that sound?  That sound is my soul slowly dying."  So they prayed, met with other church leaders and even Tim Keller in New York City, and believed they were called to the Bay Area, which is probably the greatest unchurched area in the U.S.  Their obvious love for these people encouraged me in my own love, which I know is only possible because of Christ.      

Oh, and I experienced my first newsworthy earthquake--a 3.1!  Guess that is my real initiation into the Oakland culture...    
          

Shiny San Francisco from my perch at a community fair.

I didn't take this picture, but this is pretty much the view of Oakland I have when driving to work.

So... the Bhutanese party was supposed to start at 5, which is when we arrived.  All 300 other people showed up at 7 p.m.  At least the Elk statue kept us company...

Partying Bhutanese style.

Wishing the Bhutanese elders long life and good health. 

Epicenter

Each time I want to write a blog post, I get sidetracked or give up.  There are either too many or not enough words in my head.  I am trying to stay engaged, while learning how to work and live in such a brand new place with brand new people.  That means there are plenty of ups and downs.

Someone remarked that Oakland has a split personality, which seems to desribe this city quite well.  It can be the most frustrating and remarkable city filled with the most frustrating and remarkable people.  Oakland is a city of paradoxes and cannot fit in to any box, which I really want to do.  Why, Oakland?  Why are you the way you are?  In addition, to having a split personality, Oakland has physical and cultural earthquakes.  From what I've gathered, Oakland and the Bay Area seem to be at the epicenter in issues of race, poverty, and religion... the effects radiate out to the other parts of California and the country.   

Oakland has been voted as the 3rd unfriendliest place in the world--just behind Newark and Islamabad apparently.  It is indeed an unfriendly place--people are stressed, densely packed in, and from so many different cultures and backgrounds that don't really trust each other.  But I've also met some incredibly kind strangers, neighbors, and new friends in unexpected ways who are welcoming even to this foreign Midwesterner.  Sure, people may look at me with wariness or even angry glares when I say "good morning" in the elevator, but at least you don't have to worry about small talk or millions of people asking, "How are you?" when they probably don't really care.  And sure, a man snickered when I mistakenly said "howdy," instead of "hello," but it helps build my character knowing that only God's viewpoint really matters.  I've also noticed that people are the friendliest on the hiking trails and out in nature.    

Oakland is an impoverished place, especially due to generational poverty and low education levels among most of the native Oaklanders.  There are homeless individuals on nearly every street corner, with countless people walking around very nearly in rags.  However, at the same time, you also see overwhelming displays of wealth in the form of multi-million dollar mansions, luxury cars, and designer clothes.  (In case you were wondering, I don't fit into either category).  Many parts of the city are filled with unbelievable urban blight and graffiti (in our meetings, we ponder how someone managed to tag a building with spray paint on the side of the ancient Sears building, a few stories up), but then there are also parks filled with some of the most gorgeous scenery I've ever seen.  It is filled with racial tension (mostly black-white), but the diversity is also one of its strong points. A small house church I've been going to has recently helped plant churches for Nepali and Bhutanese refugees, which are some of the most difficult countries in the world to evangelize.  Yet, here they are walking among us!  And I can enjoy food from nearly every nation on the planet within a five block radius downtown.  

In regard to violent crime, most of those descriptions are unfortunately true.  Last Friday afternoon during work just down the corner from our office, two men were engaged in a shootout in broad daylight in front of the Marriott Hotel (and only 2 blocks from the police station!).  A bystander was injured, and police were unable to respond to the scene or find the guys, because they're so understaffed.  Many of the nicer neighborhoods hire private security to patrol their streets, while the Chase bank I've been to encases its tellers in two-inch thick, bullet-proof glass.  It all sort of boggles your mind.  Oakland has one police officer for every 638 residents, while even other notorious cities like Detroit have one officer to every 235 residents.  The U.S. Department of Justice just announced a grant to help Oakland hire 10 more officers to help fill the gap in the additional 300 officers the police department needs.  I've lived in urban areas with their share of crime, but Oakland takes it to a new level.  It's definitely a different world here--like the Wild West, 21st century re-mix.

Overall, life has been a little difficult lately.  It's hard to envision how I can build a life here--it's so expensive, crowded, and a little lonely.  I'm meeting lots of people, but nobody yet really knows who I am or where I've been.  I don't really know anyone or where they've been.  People tell me not to be out after dark as a female or because my skin is white.  Why do I feel drawn to crazy places like Norfolk, Nanchang, and now Oakland?  Why couldn't I be content in sleepy, safe Indiana?  How can one place make me so happy, sad, angry, and hopeful?  I don't understand and don't think I'm necessarily supposed to understand... I think it will just take time for this place to become home. 

Like always, I thrive in challenging places and situations.  I get to remember my street smarts, relationship-building skills, and ability to adapt-- all characteristics that I have allowed to get rusty.  I have a great job, a safe place to live, and food in my stomach.  Life will be hard for a while or maybe forever, but I am a child of God, and there is a reason I beat out all those other competitors for this job that brought me here.  I really enjoy my job, co-workers, outdoorsy opportunities, dining options, and sunshine.  Please pray that I will find a fellowship to call home--that is proving to be one of the most difficult parts of this transition.  And please pray that I will have plenty of love and grace for the people around me.           

My prayer for Oakland is:

"You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more."  Psalm 10:16-18.

 Checking out the new and old Bay Bridge with new friends.

Hiking at the Redwood Regional Park with my neighbors.

 Can you spell f-o-g? 

California girl

Apparently I'm living the American dream--I live in Oakland in the San Francisco Bay Area.  This city has been designated as being one of the most expensive, dangerous, and unfriendliest cities in the world.  I hit the jackpot!  Really I did...

The Bay Area is...colorful, crowded, loud, gritty, beautiful, diverse, and sunny.  Before arriving here a couple of weeks ago, I had never set foot in northern California.  Living in California had never crossed my mind.  I was much likelier to live in a foreign country than here.  I only knew what I had heard--California is a land filled with liberals, hippies, and self-centered people who drive Priuses.  Life is expensive, highly regulated by the government, and lived without God.

Yes, those descriptions are true in many ways, but there's also more to the story, as I am slowly discovering.  I've met incredibly genuine co-workers, neighbors, and strangers.  The streets are a mix of so many nations and languages-- all I can do is picture heaven and the nations gathered around Christ's throne.  The area is filled with growing churches, amazing natural scenery, incredible restaurants, and creative citizens.

One word that jumps to mind every day, however, is scarcity--a result of millions of people competing for limited resources in a tiny geographical area.  There isn't enough water, housing, transportation options, or space for everyone.  That's why over 30 people must compete for one apartment, why I was put on the waiting list at number 1,792 for a parking spot at the nearby light rail station (which means I'd get a spot in, oh, about 90 years), why plastic bags are nearly nonexistent at stores, why I live on top of a mountainous hill that is perpetually at high risk for fires (and where 25 people perished in the 1990s), why my rent is $1200/mo. for a 350 sq. ft. studio apartment, why tempers boil over into riots and looting (really), why poverty is rampant, and why my job is even necessary in the first place.

But in the face of scarcity comes a unique community.  On one city block I can see African Americans, elderly people who look like they walked right off the streets of China, Middle Eastern women in veils, stylish Europeans, people who dress like it's still the 1960s, and hipsters wearing cool sunglasses I've only seen in magazines.  People bike, walk, and take public transit.  They shop at farmer's markets and go hiking on the weekend.  They live in old, tiny, art-deco apartments.  They create community gardens in vacant lots next to the rubble of run-down buildings.  They speak so many languages!  They are able to spray paint graffiti in the most seemingly impossible to reach places.      

So I don't know if I can or will want to ever be a "California girl."  It's too expensive!  But for now, I'm settling in nicely, thriving in my job so far, and engaging in a culture far different than any other I've ever known.  It will be a challenge living here, but I know that I do best with challenges, so I am happy...

One last glimpse of Kansas sunflowers on the amazing 1800 mile drive out West with Mom!

 Some of Wyoming.  Smallest state population in the country and I understand why...

The Great Salt Lake in Utah.  Nevada doesn't deserve any pictures, unfortunately.

Driving on the nearly 80 year old Bay Bridge to San Francisco, just days before they permanently closed it and opened up a replacement.

 Pretty trails near where I live in northern Oakland.

Not a bad view of the Bay from my neighborhood!

The cutest little library that ever existed.  This is located about a mile hike down from my house.  I already got a library card and think I will probably read everything in this tiny place in only about 2 months.

Just a little bit of what I see from my office window in Oakland.  I don't know where all the people and cars were when I took this...

View in the morning from the San Francisco office.

San Francisco's Chinatown smells just like China!

Next steps

There was a time when I blogged at least twice a week.  Now I'm just a less wordy person or not as many noteworthy things are happening.  However, after not writing for a month, this post is long overdue!

The latest news is that I'm packing up my life (once again) and moving to the West Coast!  I've lived in the Midwest, East Coast, and Asia, so why not try the strange, foreign land of northern California?  My job ended on July 19th, and I've been searching for a new job since May.  In this crazy economy, I've been blessed with a great job with a nonprofit in the Bay Area.

I start in about a week, which means I need to drive out there ASAP.  I've spent the past ten days traveling to see East Coast family-- Andrea in Daytona Beach and grandparents in Rochester.  I love them all so dearly, and enjoyed laughing, crying, and just being with them.  Now I have one day at home before Mom and I start the four day/1,800 mile drive to California.  I honestly don't know what's ahead or what will happen, but I'm looking forward to the opportunity to live in a big city again, to experience diversity once again, to be challenged once again, and to make new friends once again.  Thank you for your prayers and encouragement in this next season of life!    

And a couple of weeks ago I was cleaning out some boxes and found a sealed envelope written by Laura to Laura.  It was dated April 24, 2010 and I was to open it a year later back in the States.  Well, I was a couple of years late in opening it, but the words were still timely...  I will spare you the whole long letter, but here are a few excerpts:

"Letter to myself-

It is a beautiful, sunny spring day in Nanchang, China.  Our sisters, "R" and "C," are here with Jodi and me having our weekly Saturday morning study.  They are some the dearest people to me in the world.  I know as you're reading this a year later [or three!], that life is much different.  Maybe you're in your second semester at Indiana?  Even if you aren't, I know that you're in the palm of His hand wherever you are and whatever you're doing.

I have been in China for nearly 2 years now.  I have never experienced such an amazing and frustrating place.  I have witnessed so much joy, happiness, and freedom in my heart and in the hearts of others.  It has been one of the biggest privileges and joys of my life to see God calling people to Him and to see people follow Him faithfully.  I have seen Him transform so many lives and hearts--including mine!  He has been peeling away the bitterness, impatience, selfishness, hurt, and evil that has a home in my heart.  It is painful, but I trust that it is for my good and for His glory...

Laura, whatever is going on in your life right now, just continue to trust in Him and love Him!  Be steadfast in spirit.  I can anticipate that living in America again will probably be an enormous challenge.  If times are good, remember to thank Him and praise Him always!  Be generous and kind because of Christ.  Love others even when you don't want to.  Meet new people, get to know some international students, be involved with a fellowship, and be a light!  Don't take life too seriously.  Try for excellence, but not perfection.  Remember the great friends you had in China, but it's also okay to make new memories where you're at in life right now.  Count your days and remember that tomorrow is not promised.  And if things are discouraging and difficult, throw your cares at His feet!  He loves you and cares for you and knows you.  Nobody else or nothing else can ever satisfy like He can.

I have a feeling that your faith will be challenged--maybe even more than in communist China-- and I want you to remember that God is the only answer and Jesus is the only way.  Don't let the enemy feed lies to you.  Remember God's promises and goodness and renounce the enemy in Jesus' name.  Take heart.  Be accountable to others and read the Word daily.  Be refreshed and restored in His presence.  Persevere and stand firm in your faith.  You are free in Christ and nobody can ever take away your security and identity in Christ."

And so, folks, I hope those words from 23 year old Laura can also encourage you, as you seek to keep your sights fixed on Him!

Lastly, here are a small handful of pictures from the past wonderful couple of weeks in Florida and New York:

Andrea and I spent many happy hours swimming...

...and playing tennis.  I'll miss her so much!  She is a delight.

Also hung out with my most delightful 90 year old grandpa and 84 year old grandma!

A gorgeous day kayaking with my cousin on the Erie Canal in Fairport.

27 Candles

I’m 27.  TWENTY-SEVEN years old!  How can I still feel like I’m a 19 year old living in 2006?  Aren’t people usually married by now?  Have a handful of kids?  Have a career?  Have a smart phone at least?  Well, I guess God has different paths for different people.  And 27 is the new 17 anyway.  Actually, I hope not.  I do not need to be 17 again—with blonde highlights and awkward prom dates.  I prefer my more natural, confident 27 year old self, although I do still go on awkward dates sometimes.  And I don’t really mind growing older and wiser—that means I am just one step closer to heaven. 

Okay, the past couple of weeks have been filled with plenty of ups and downs.  I’ve interviewed for jobs, packed up to leave Bloomington forever in just a few days, had to move out of my apartment into a friend’s, visited some friends in gorgeous Michigan, have been locked out of my email account for a week, started to wrap up my current job here, and said many goodbyes to many dear friends.  I’m looking forward to the future with anticipation, but also just sort of shaking my head dizzily from how fast life has gone. 

Leaving Bloomington is rather bittersweet.  I’ve had some of my best and worst memories here.  I’ve made some of my best accomplishments and biggest mistakes here.  Three years ago I arrived in Bloomington to attend graduate school, without any idea of what the future would hold.  I applied to school while in China, had never visited the city, and didn’t know a soul.  Yet I remember nearly crying for thankfulness when I was pleasantly surprised by an awesome church, awesome people, and an awesome community.  I gained a master’s degree, learned to be more authentic, loved others well, and truly had my faith refined by God.  I hope that this city and people have been made slightly better off because I was here—I know I have grown in too many ways to count.

“All of us have had that veil removed so that we can be mirrors that brightly reflect the glory of the Lord. And as the Spirit of the Lord works within us, we become more and more like Him and reflect His glory even more.” ~2 Corinthians 3:18.   

So I say goodbye to Bloomington.  Goodbye to genuine friends.  A beloved Christian community.  Pretty trees.  Great restaurants.  Connections in the government and nonprofit world.  Mild weather.  Hiking trails.  A nice little city newspaper.  International students.  Compassionate citizens.  Low crime.  Small town living.  Ballet classes and tennis games.

I also say goodbye to my 26^th year.  Goodbye to a challenging and humbling year.  My mid-20s.  The hospital.  Physical pain and scars.  Mental pain and scars.  Fear and anxiety.  My first truly full-time, professional job.   

And I say hello!  Hello to life as a wiser 27 year old in a yet-to-be-determined location and job.  Hello to new adventures, friends, experiences, and memories.  I am still young and I am “Laura the Brave,” as a couple of my friends have said.  I never believed them, but am slowly starting to think it’s true.  I’m brave because of Christ.  I’m brave because of my family and friends.  I’m brave because you just have to be brave in order to keep moving forward...   

Change is in the air

At times during the winter, I was pretty sure life in Bloomington would just keep going on and on forever.  I would work hard at my job, attend small group Bible study, listen to my roommate practicing her viola, laugh and play with friends, cook simple meals, tentatively grow stronger physically and mentally, and always remain 26.  Now it seems that this existence of contentment is slowly fading.  Change is coming.

I'm not adverse to change--change is a part of my life, and usually I embrace it.  Lately, however, I feel a sense of loss.  Some of my closest, dearest friends in the whole world have recently packed up and headed elsewhere, even my roommate.  I, too, shall soon be moving elsewhere.  Sure, now I have more free time that can be spent applying for jobs, etc., but life seems quieter and less risky and colorful.  I thrive being around people, and now that I've had more than 5 minutes to myself over the past 2 days, my mind can start wandering to a million different thoughts.  Like what on earth am I really doing with my life?  Or thinking that 26 still seems so young.  Then a split second later thinking that 26 is extremely old.  Or dreaming about having an awesome studio apartment in San Francisco... or Prague... or Shanghai.     

So to break things up, I'm still trying to have little adventures for the remaining month I have here.  I continue to play tennis with friends and even random, handsome strangers I meet at Bryan Park.  And now that I have more quiet time, I try to fill my empty thoughts with prayers.  I pray for all those dear friends scattered in different directions, my mom's challenging and meaningful work, this crazy country, conversations with coworkers, and peace for all that has happened in the past year.  And now I even have time for novels!    

I've also started biking a bit again. This past week I rode my bike a couple of times across town to work.  It takes about 20 minutes.  With gas at $4.25 early last week, I decided it was time to enjoy the nice weather and pedal myself all the way to office.  It has been fun--minus the parts where I arrive at work all disheveled with helmet hair, or where drivers can't really see you in their early morning daze, or where you can't really time your arrival to work and end up either 15 minutes too early or late.

In other news, I'm still volunteering visiting my elderly friend.  Today's conversation centered on tennis.  I only try to bring up topics that I know I will somewhat enjoy, since we will talk in circles about that topic forever because of her dementia.  So tennis is a doable topic.  Topics that are not doable to me include cats, boyfriends, and more cats.    
 

Farewell!  All of these dear friends have now headed to all corners of the U.S.

Prairie Vacationing

I've been taking tennis lessons all month, and loving it. When I fall asleep I dream of backhands and volleys and overheads. Yesterday at 4 a.m., my alarm woke me from my happy dreams of tennis matches, and I jumped out of bed (well, maybe slowly rolled out), and headed to the Indianapolis airport. As I drove along the winding roads on the hour-long trip north, I was brimming with anticipation. I was going home after nearly a year!

Our plane touched down in Kansas City just about as the sun was coming up. I strode through the plane's exit door with my spindly long legs that were expecting the heat of the Great Plains. Instead it was pretty chilly for this time of year! Nevertheless, I kept onward. I left the gate area, expecting my mom to run and hug me. But there was not a single soul waiting for anyone. Nevertheless, I kept onward. I walked outside of the terminal, shivering. My mom called to say she would be there in 15 minutes. Nevertheless, I kept onward. It was barely dawn, after all.

She arrived after a few minutes, and we drove home to Topeka. I've always loved that homecoming drive--when I returned on breaks during college, when I came back after China, and even now. As we drive west, the view is pretty spectacular. The sky is the most vivid blue in all the world, I'm convinced. The rolling hills and farmland are a hazy green. There's so much open space that you feel a bit freer and more relaxed. Time stands still, and all seems right with the world. How many times have I made this drive now after being in far-off lands?

I look forward to coming home and recalling memories that seem to tumble out of each room in my Mom's house or at each landmark we pass in Topeka. Walking into the "inner-city" high school each morning with my sister, anticipating another school day filled with German, history, math, and drama classes; the old halls seemed alive with a blur of excitement. Playing noisy games of baseball and hockey with the other neighbor kids on our block. Getting scolded by older folks as the same neighbor kids and Andrea and I would race along the grassy back alley between the houses, jumping fences and causing even more noise. Looking for Andrea and finding her high up in the big Bradford Pear tree at the front of the house. Jumping through the sprinkler on hot, windy summer days. Waiting out the storms in the basement with my family as the tornado sirens wailed. Launching stuffed animals off the balcony inside the house to help them fly. Creating obstacle courses weaving around the yard. Drawing the longest hopscotch trail down the street with my best friend. Having nothing but time to play, laugh, think, dream, and grow.

And so I come home to all of these memories, wondering where all the time has gone. Would 6 year-old Laura be happy about what 26 year-old Laura is today? Had I ever imagined I would be a Christian, study several languages, explore Asia, be educated, and love people well because of God's love? A part of me wants to feel jealous about 6 year-old Laura who was so free, uninhibited, happy, and without a care in the world. But then I realize that in my ways I haven't changed too much. I still play, laugh, think, dream, and grow. I'm even freer, happier, and cast all my cares to God. Twenty years later life isn't as simple, but it is still colorful--with added colors, textures and tones. Yes, 6 year-old Laura would be glad.

On that note, I am off to have an adventure with my Mom! Here are some pictures of late. I'll add some Kansas pictures next time!


Evening campfire on a cliff overlooking Lake Monroe.


At my Chinese friends' wedding on an American farm!