Back on Track

Or at least on the treadmill. Yep, I'm attempting to start my running regime again. There's a 5K coming up soon (!), which a friend and I will be running together. I had high hopes of possibly a marathon this autumn, but my body is far from agreeing to this idea. Maybe next year!

Nonetheless, I've found an interesting, long-winded web-blog article for those who enjoy a bit if wind in the hair, sweat on the brow and blisters on the feet.This photo is from almost exactly a year ago in Prague, after completing a 5K night run through the city. A few wonderful fans came along for the fun and a nice meal together following the trek.

Still Aggravated

I've become increasingly annoyed this week as I visited my blog and was reminded of my experience in a church down the road.

It's possible you may have as well, hence this new post and photo.

Sarka Valley Community Church (SVCC) in Prague, Czech Republic is a community of Christ followers who have a very different (and dare I say much more scriptural!) understanding and practice of the Eucharist than the church I attended this past Sunday.

My final Sunday with SVCC in February 2010 was a day which I hope to never forget. Following a heartfelt sermon from a dear friend, our full attention was drawn to the wine and bread which sat on the table in front of us.

It was a morning which as a church community we gathered around the table to share the Eucharist together. We stood in one circle as was our custom. This allowed me to see and love each sister and brother whom I had worshiped with and befriended over my seven years in Prague.

The prayer and blessing over the bread was beautifully and eloquently made as the loaf was broken and passed from believer to believer. This, followed by the chalice of wine.

A miscommunication regarding the children that Sunday kept them in the service rather than having them dismissed as they normally would have been. Happily, this allowed me to see my Prague Christian family in its fullness around the table of fellowship one final time.

I was honoured to bring before each child a bowl prepared with a mixture of milk and honey. They would not drink the wine as it was passed, but could dip their piece of bread into the milk and honey as a sign of their journey and the promise that they are welcome to into the Kingdom; symbolic of the promise to the Israelites of a Land flowing with milk and honey.

Tears filled my eyes as I moved from child to child, holding the small yellow bowl. My hands trembled from emotion as I encouraged each child to dip their piece of bread in the sweet mixture. Peter, whom a few years back I had visited in the hospital after his birth; Anna, whose family was recently baptised and became members; Maggie, Leo and Marcela who visited faithfully with their parents once a year when their dad came to study at the seminary; Selina, a young girl, who quite quickly moved from a 6 year old in pink ruffled skirts to a teenager with braces and wearing skinny jeans.

These children will never remember that Sunday, but I will never forget it as together with their parents and others in that chapel, we embodied the love and shared the peace of communion together in and with Christ.

The Eucharist is a celebration! It is the very essence and the clearest sign of our Christian communion together, our sharing of the peace and embracing sisters and brothers in genuine love, and of our recognizing and remembering Christ, our Redeemer. It cannot be approached and received in this 'fast-food' manner, as a dear friend below has stated. It's not the hasty distribution of plastic two-for-one cups, to be consumed quickly so as to not take time away from the worship songs and the message.

The Eucharist is the message.

Kýrie, eléison

Pre-packaged Jesus

Juice and a wafer in an all-in-one package. A tiny juice cup topped by a plastic film, which had a small wafer placed on it, which was then covered by another plastic film.

This was my Eucharist experience today. It made me sad. I can't even call it Eucharist, certainly not Lord's Supper or Communion...

Catching Up! A missed weekend 3:

Two weekends ago, to celebrate the 31st birthday of yours truly, the city of Grand Rapids erected a free giant 500 foot (152 meter) waterslide, which ran down one of the main streets.

The city also offered many extremely unhealthy birthday snacks to keep me and my guests happy throughout the afternoon. Above are half-eaten chili cheese fries, which followed an amazing cinnamon and sugar elephant ear.

Happy Birthday to me!

Catching Up! A missed weekend 2:

It's true. When you live somewhere you are less likely to be the tourist, until the opportunity comes along!

My tourist trip opportunity to Mackinac Island came at the invitation of one of my uncles. Having this plan in the works already in May, I was like a child waiting for Christmas when the weekend trip in late July finally came!

The day was idyllic. Mid-morning we drove up to Mackinac city (still on the mainland), loaded our bikes and ourselves on the ferry and spent the better part of a gorgeous Friday in July riding around the island, enjoying each others' company, sampling the Island's delicacies (one fried pickle, please) and purchasing the necessary fudge and postcards, before riding the ferry back across to the mainland.

Again, below are a few photos from the day :)

Anyone traveling from the Lower to the Upper Peninsula always holds an in-car competition as to who sees the Bridge first. Can you see it?

A gorgeous day and a beautiful place to spend it.

Lining up to get on the ferry to cross over to Mackinac Island - unless you go by plane (or swim...) this is the only way to get there.

On the island.

My little Fit resting at a scenic overlook on my way back down south to Grand Rapids.

Catching Up! A missed weekend 1:

The first weekend of August/last of July, my mom and her sister, my cousin and I took a trip up to the UP (Upper Peninsula of Michigan) to visit my Grandparents at their cottage in the middle of nowhere (Iron River).

Having gone up there every summer as a child, it evoked such nostalgia to go again.

The grandparents regularly have a list of chores (shoveling gravel, cutting the grass, staining the deck) and in between them we jump in the lake as a reward and a refresher.

Below are just a few photos taken by my dear cousin from our adventure to the UP.

Me proudly displaying and devouring my chocolate-covered Twinkie at the Northernmost point of Lake Michigan on our drive up.

My Grandparents' cottage in Iron River, Michigan.

Stanley Lake from their deck.

My aunt and I zooming through the property with a load of gravel. ("Zooming" meaning puttering along at 10 mph)

Grandpa and I testing out my skills as a marksman on an unsuspecting milk carton.

My cousin and one of our incredible "schmoes".

Mine having just disappeared.

The Rodeo Days parade of Iron River brought out the best of the city...

Admiring Stanley Lake the evening before my long drive home.

The Five Month Hymn

It was 22 February 2010 ,when I left the Czech Republic and my job, my pets, my bike, my pubs and my friends.

Since that day, I have had a number of nostalgic moments, grieving moments and lonely moments. I've missed the meaningful relationships and the fun of the city. I've longed for the Prague ham roasting downtown and a chat over a crisp cold pivo sitting outside at the local pub. I've been extremely sad, shed tears and let them flow freely.

Since that day, I have reconnected with a very loving family. I've learned what 'coming home' feels like. Friends have embraced me and allowed me into their lives. I've gorged on the wonders of the all-you-can-eat buffet and visited and swam in the most beautiful Lake in the world. I've been extremely happy, shed tears and let them flow freely.

It is 22 July 2010 - I have an apartment, a car, a dog, a fridge with yummy food, a comfy bed and an enjoyable job.

Truly this God of ours moves in mysterious ways. Mr. Cowper, I understand your words. Thank you.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.