On a journey...

Snow topped mountains. Lakes. Quaint wooden houses. Forests. The view as my (now very delayed) train chuggs along on my way to visit a friend in the south of Norway. It's such a beautiful view which even the greyest of days (like today) can't steal. I just ate some vestlandslefse enjoying the sweetness of the sugar and the softness of the bread. A very Norwegian flavour to accompany my view (which is a lot more at a standstill than I would have liked). It's been a restful yet also slightly hectic few days since coming home. Last Thursday one of the women from the windows in Amsterdam shared her plan to leave prostitution and her need in order to do so. I said I would pray and ask others to pray as well. But suddenly the choice to share a need for prayer turned into a fundraiser as God started to respond to the prayer. I was completely taken off guard. I guess I should have anticipated it, but in the busyness of preparing to come home for Christmas I didn't think it thro

My plastic cup is stained bright pink from my beetroot, carrot, and I think banana juice. I picked it because it was called “stress blaster” (or something like that), and also coz it sounded nice. Sleep is starting to sneak in and I am wondering if I should have gone with a Starbucks latte with an extra shot of espresso. Anyways, all I really need to do this morning is make it to my gate and get on the plane home. And seeing as I am in the terminal already it shouldn’t be too difficult. Again I am at the airport, and as always a prime place to blog. It was weird to be walking through the wet streets of the city center of Amsterdam at 6:30 am this morning. It’s been freezing cold the past week, so I was taken a bit by surprise at how it was feeling warmer (read: still cold) and that my bundling up with scarf and fleece gloves was not necessary. The streets were so empty, but for some random people who by the looks of it hadn’t made it home for the evening yet. As I was walki

The cold had me cycling quickly through the city this evening coming back from a lovely meeting with a dear friend at the “Brecht café” (interestingly named after the German author “Bertolt Brecht” whose literature I was studying and analyzing when I did German in school, many many years ago).  Yet, even though I was trying to get inside as quickly as possible, I still took in the many amazing light features popping up around the city in preparation for the festival of lights. It is beautiful. Massive chandeliers made up of many little lights along the wide roads, and different creative uses of lights on buildings, really makes the city illuminated (literally). As I crossed the Dam square, the Christmas tree was also up and alight. I started thinking about the film I watched in the cinema today, “The Butler”. It was a great film, not really about light per se, more about USA and their racial history, but a quote at the start of the film stood out to me and remains with me. Martin

It’s strangely quiet. No sounds of drunken men shouting, or vehicles passing by. Just quiet. I guess it’s probably because it’s almost four o’clock in the morning, and unlike me, most people are sleeping at this time. Most people. Not all. After tossing and turning for a couple of hours I finally got up and made myself a cup of herbal tea. Waiting for the water to boil, I was looking out of my living room window. The few people on the streets were men and the bike-taxis, but it was quite empty. A rare sight in the largest Red Light District in Amsterdam. Empty except for the men walking with purpose towards the windows. The windows with their bright red lights lit, showing that although the city sleeps, they are open for business. Windows with women who are awake at this hour because they have someone or something that has to be paid for and this is the way they make the money. Windows with women that I know. Women I am hoping and praying for. It messes with me to

I just got done leading a Bible study in Spanish without a translation back-up, and it went really well. I am amazed at what we are actually able to do when we have no other option. It wasn’t a flawless flow of communication (that would have been a miracle), but together we figured out what I wanted to say. And I think it was good. I was blessed and they seemed blessed as well. The girls just left and I am sat here in my living room with the candles lit. It’s windy and rainy outside, and I am smiling. Happy. Not because I overcame the language challenge, but happy because of yet another beautiful time of bringing more of Jesus to the girls in our Bible study. I am thankful for the privilege of knowing them and standing with them in their journeys of knowing Jesus. And thankful that even when language is shaky, love is stronger and is communicated beyond mere words.

Another time of transition. After almost 2 years here in Amsterdam I a starting to prepare to move on. After I get back from running Shine in Brazil I will be moving on. To what and where, I don’t know, but I know it’ll be something good because God leads well. It’s  another time of so many changes. And yet while looking to the future there is a need to be in the now and present. I am better at the latter at the moment. The ahead seems so far away, and the present has more than enough things to resolve. Kind of like it says in the Bible that each day has enough worries of it’s on. Last night I did my first of many lasts. My last shift with HOME soup- the soup project Not For Sale runs here in the Red Light District. The past year and a half I’ve been heading out every Tuesday night; rain or shine or snow, selling soup and salads to the women behind the windows. It’s been such a privilege and so amazing to see soup open doors to hearts. I will miss it. I will miss the joy o

I am firmly perched on top of my suitcase in the hallway of the train to Cologne. It’s a challenge to find an empty seat among the myriad of passengers, and not having a seat reservation makes it even more challenging. So I am grateful for this little space in the hallway that fits my suitcase with me on top. Outside dusk is coming quickly and it’s a reminder that autumn is really here. The trees are bare and it hailed today, so I am already anticipating spring and summer again. I am on a train. On my way to Cologne, Germany to teach on a DTS about justice. A challenging subject, but when seen in the light of God, a hope-filled subject. Heart moved. Just this week my heart was again so deeply moved as I was working with the women. I was moved by hearing the many plans one of them has and I hope that she never has to return to a window. I was moved by how one of them felt God so near as we prayed. And I was moved by the reality of how Jesus is shown through who we are and h

Cycling. Through the city and trying to weave my way through pedestrians, cars, trucks and other cyclists. Crisp air. The kind that makes your ears tingle, and makes every breath feel so refreshing, yet at the same time painfully reminds you that you should have put your gloves on. Movie set. Thinking it strange that the café on the corner is now “Kalifornia bar” (or something like that) and realizing that the corner has been turned into a movie set with people in different attires and several buildings with “new” facades. Amsterdam. What can I say? It’s unique and it’s beautiful all year round. Train. Having the doors shut as I am trying to lob my heavy bag into an already full train corridor, and only just managing to squeeze in. Mint and pineapple. Juice I had for lunch which is definitely worth repeating. Latte. Enjoying a coffee with a friend before she leaves tomorrow. Ending up at Starbucks due to the lack of other cafes at the airport that don’t use a

First impressions. Our three hour bumpy bus ride to the village of Paicu in the south of Moldova reminded me of the minibuses in Brazil, that are always packed and bumpy. In the driver’s defense, the roads weren’t the best either. Finally we got off at what seemed in the middle of nowhere and started walking down the dirt road in the direction of the village. I was so grateful to have our contact, now friend, with us who knew where we were going. After a little walk we were met by a white van driven by one of the missionaries in the village. She grew up there amidst a lot of hard challenges, found Jesus, and is now on fire for God, having got His heart for her village and has planted a church there. She is  slowly seeing her family and others coming to Jesus as they see the transformation in her life. As we drove into the village we saw large piles of hay stored up for the winter, chickens and geese wandering around, bright blue fences and green houses, and beautiful flowers.

As I got ready for the day I was expecting to sit here at the end of it feeling heavy and overwhelmed by the reality of Human Trafficking here in Moldova. Instead I find myself processing the day and realizing that the main thing I come away with is a deep sense of hope. We visited two projects today that work with people at risk of or rescued from human trafficking. I was so impacted by what God is doing in this nation in this area. Talking to the leaders of these projects and hearing the vision and what they are doing, and even more what God is doing, I was so encouraged. At “Beginning of Life” we spent some hours just meeting and sharing with Vladimir, the director of the project. He shared some of the reality of human trafficking in his nation, but more about how the doors are wide open to do prevention work in the schools of the nation, and how teenagers come and do a year-long weekly project where they are “prepared for success”. And he shared how in their restoration ho

I noticed her on the train on the way there because she was sleeping with her head resting in her hands. Occasionally she would jerk awake only to fall back to sleep. Her head was covered with the traditional head scarf and I imagined she was just another older Moldovian woman on her way somewhere. As we got off the train I noticed her because she struggled to climb down the steep steps of the train, and we had to give her a hand with her bag. Walking towards the church we offered to help her, but she wasn’t too interested so we let her be. After the long day in the village we headed back to the platform (the slab of concrete in between the railway lines) and when we were almost there I saw her. She was lying on the ground, clearly very drunk, and her black bag was a little ways away. I wanted to help, but realized that communication would be a challenge. Thankfully our group had a few Russian/Romanian speakers and they were there shortly after me. They talked to her and helpe

The train slowly pulled away from the platform. We were all situated on the bright orange wooden benches in the mint green and orange painted train headed from Chisinau to Bender. We were on our way to a small village church with a team from OM (Operation Mobilization) here in Moldova. The hour and forty minute train journey passed reasonably quickly. It was fascinating to observe the landscape outside through the dirty train windows, which created a slightly foggy effect on the scenery. Passing fields and hills and forests with the occasional buildings on the way it was easy tell we were leaving the big city. Yesterday we spent the day in the city, which was vastly different to Amsterdam. I felt like we were the only tourists and as we walked through the bustling market buying fruit for breakfast, it was fascinating to see how you could literally buy anything there. We spent the day walking around the city and getting a bit of glimpse of this city with its run-down cement buildin

It actually feels like I’m on the beach. The hot sun is adding some extra tan to my face and arms, there is a cooling water mist coming from the fan in the corner, and we are lounged on some nice benches with comfy cushions on. The empty pot of Earl Grey is on the table and we are all typing away on our respective electronic devices. I guess the big question is: Where are we? Well, we are at a small café in the airport in Bucharest, Romania, making use of our 5 hour lay-over on-route to Chisinau, Moldova. Arriving at the airport in Amsterdam  we were a bit astounded by the long queue for the bag drop. The newly introduced “self-service bag drop”, which in theory is meant to save time and be efficient, but which hasn’t entered into its full potential when tackled by unknowing “first-timers”, who end up spending a long time trying to figure out how to place their luggage in the little machine, how to scan their boarding pass, how to attach the id-strip to the bag or suitcase, and ad

I’ve been back in Amsterdam for two weeks now. I would say back “home”, but Fortaleza felt so much like home, I’m not ready to call Amsterdam home yet. It’s weird. Culture shock, jet-lag, all those concepts that hit you when you spend more than just a holiday in a culture different from your own. I would have thought it wouldn’t hit me this hard having been away only a couple of weeks, but it has, and it is. Although I think I’m over jet-lag by now. It was so strange to leave Fortaleza. In two weeks it became normality, although I was always aware that I was just visiting. Even as I ate lunch before leaving straight after, it didn’t feel like I was heading off. Pulling into the parking lot of the airport, the sensation was that it was to pick someone up, not actually for the purpose of me leaving. The flight was long. And tiring. And uncomfortable. Usually I do well on planes, but a sore throat and cough added to a small seat I couldn’t quite get settled into made it feel so l

Tomorrow I head back to Amsterdam. It’s been a really full two weeks here, yet at the same time it feels like I just got here. On Friday morning we set off again to Oitão Preto. As we drove in we passed another one of the boys, now a young man, I used to know. He’s such a funny boy. It took him a few seconds to realize who we were and we had a little chat with him. I asked him how things were going and he said that things were going ok and that he was just waiting for someone to sort out his papers, but that God is still good. As we drove on I was thinking about how him and others are always waiting for “someone” to sort things out for them, and how there is always something that is keeping them from changing the direction they are going in. And yet, at the same time, I wonder what he would do if one day someone came and presented him with everything. Would he then step into something different? As we walked up the stairs to the prayer house I could feel the peace and the pr