So Long, Farewell...Hallo!

I have been awake for 29 hours. Never in my life have I stayed awake for so long. Yet, here I sit, finally showered and droopy eyed with a racing heart excited for the weeks to come. After a flight to Chicago, another to Munich, one train from the airport to the city and another from Munich to Augsburg, it is safe to say that I am exhausted. So, when I called my friend Deni, I was surprised when she asked me if I was still in the States. "Well, no," I reply, "I'm at the train station in Augsburg." It turns out our dates were mixed up and I arrived a day earlier than expected. But I am immediately struck once again by the generosity of these friends of old. She said not to worry and within fifteen minutes, her black car pulled up to the train station.

When I arrived at their home, the whole family was there, grandparents included, and they joyfully set another place at the table for me because I came just in time for coffee and cake. We sat at the table and I tried desperately to pick out just a few words in German through their conversations and I just smiled. I am happy to be here.

The sun is shining more brightly than I have seen in Seattle since last August and every person I pass greets me with a cheerful "Hallo!" I am glad that I get to start and end my trip here with good friends who will well equip me for whatever journey lies ahead. What a blessing it is to have friends I can call family spread across this massive globe. And especially now in this little corner of the world in the southern part of Germany where a train will take me anywhere my heart desires and a friend lies waiting on either side.

In just a few days, I will be hopping on quite a few more trains making my way to Munich and then Salzburg which will lead me on to Schladming. There, my sister will be waiting with many other eager students and staff, ready (or perhaps not quite) for the adventures that lie in store for the next five weeks. I'm not sure what it will be like, but I'm excited for the mystery. With mystery comes surprises and surprises are quite excellent most of the time.

Thank You

It's weird, the way time works. One minute, you're stressed out of your mind unable to go on and the next minute you're breathing again. Year two is officially finished and I am now halfway through college. Yet, somehow, I'm not terrified. I feel in the right place for the first time in a while. I don't feel a huge lack of direction. I don't feel ahead of or behind everyone else. I'm 20 and that feels like the right age. I have found my place on a leadership team, starting year two in the fall. The greatest fear is what exists between me and my relationships.

I am a girl of many circles and it is increasingly difficult for me to make those circles intertwine. I desperately hope that I will be able to hold onto all of them, but life doesn't always work that way. How long until this heart becomes too heavy to hold on? When I let go, will they hold on while I regain my strength? Yes, I know they will. That's why these friendships still exist. If I give up when the other gives up, then there is no hope. But there have been years of one of us being too tired and still this love continues. For this peace, I will be forever grateful.

The last year has been far from easy, but I have learned so much. A year that started in pure bliss quickly hit a wall. A wall of questioning God and of wondering where I was supposed to be. As I overcame one fear or question, another would quickly pop up. It was like I was playing Mario...hopping on a mushroom only to see one of those nasty flowers in front of me, threatening to eat me and stop me from stepping any closer to the finish. Exhilarating highs and exhausting lows with nothing in between. Nine months of this emotional roller coaster is enough for now. As people ask me how year two was, I respond with, "Good. Very hard, but very good."

I am thankful for the year. No, I wouldn't have asked for many of the things that happened, but I came out alive and that's the point. There were conversations that I wish I could have avoided, relationships I wish I could have mended or grown and actions that perhaps shouldn't have been taken. But if I look back on the year and beat myself up about the things that have already occurred, how will I ever move forward? Not only did I come out alive, I came out knowing a much more clearly who I am. It's a good thing, being able to know who you are. I am learning how I handle things that seem too hard to face. I am learning what I need to rejuvenate. I am learning how best to relate to those around me. I am learning the importance of the words, "I love you." I am learning that life isn't always going to be easy, no matter how hard I try. Learning to be flexible. To be vulnerable. To love.

I thank you, Anna, for living with me for nine whole months, through the good and the bad. Thank you for the post-it notes, for the letters, for being quiet when I needed to sleep and for bringing me daisies when I had a cold. They all meant so much to me and I won't forget it.

Thank you, Jill and Em, for hanging out in our room even though your room was just as cool. Thanks for the encouragement when stress ensued. Thank you for plopping yourself on the fun couch and begging for snuggles.

Thank you, Jess Robertson, for playing the viola. That four stringed instrument, C-G-D-A, has created a friendship that will last forever. Thanks for being the perfect height and having the perfect heart for hugging. I'll be coming back to Fourth for some more of those.

Thank you, Candice and Becky Jo, for holding me and for listening. Thank you also for trusting me to do the same for you. You've both helped me through a very tough year.

Thank you, Chomes, for those many nights spring quarter where we brushed our teeth in every sink. You are my somebody to love, if you know what I mean. You've brought me so much joy.

Thank you, Ben, for drinking tea in my room between classes. For the long talks, for the encouragement and for allowing me to live in the fantastical Friends & Family world, but also stay connected to my SPU world. I know it's not easy, but I appreciate it so much.

Thank you, Val Baby, for wrapping chords with me every Wednesday night and for walking me and my instruments back to my room. Thank you for always knowing just when I needed you.

Thank you, Lara, for second chances and for making things new. I love you, more than I showed.

Thank you, Aly, for making sure that I will never forget the importance of group staff. Also, for teaching me the importance of living in the moment and not stressing about the future.

Thank you, Dahlstroms, for every single Sunday. For salmon lunches and listening ears. For advice in my woes and encouragement in my excitement. For Christmas in Ramsau. Most of all, I thank you for the unending love.

Thank you, Dewey, for the walks. I know you're just a dog, but our walks three days a week have given me a lot of time to think and have given me much needed peace.

This list could go on for so long, but I suppose it must stop somewhere. Thank you all, you know who you are, for giving me the strength and courage to persevere through difficult times. It is when I get through those times that I see beauty, hope, peace and love. I see it in all of you and it lights up my life. Thank you.

To Fourth

There is JOY

in our spirits.

There is BEAUTY

in our friendships.

There is LOVE

in our hearts.

There is LAUGHTER

in my memory.

There is TEA

in my throat.

There is LOVE

in my heart.

There is a STROBE LIGHT

in the bathroom.

There is TIE-DYE

in the shirt.

There is LOVE

in the heart.

There is FOURTH

in the Hill.

There is CHRIST

in the soul.

There is LOVE

in the heart.

Fit For Adventure

That's what it says on the side of my shoebox. Inside of the shoebox is a pair of red Chacos. Single straps without the toe strap, to be exact. We all have these things that are the last thing we need to be complete. For Jillian, it's her green Camelback water bottle, but for me it's these shoes. They are not the regular black flip flops or brown Keds. No, these are sturdy. These are for Austrian mountains and rocky Seattle beaches. These are for long walks and bike rides. I like that their slogan is "Fit for Adventure" because it's so fitting. Once these shoes are on your feet, the doors of the world feel as though they open for you.

I bought them for Austria after much thought and consideration. These are shoes to last a lifetime and you can't just buy them on a whim. When I told Mom I wanted them, she was proud that I was in a position to need such shoes. It's taken me significantly longer to enjoy the idea of being outdoors than it did for my brother and sister. For them, love of the mountains seems much more natural than it does to me. Yet here I am, standing in her office asking for her 20% off coupon to buy these shoes that will make me fit for adventure. I like adventures, I always have, but I have never craved an adventure like I am right now. I sit in my macroeconomics class and draw pathetic sketches of places I wish I were in. My mind wanders in and out of cross-cultural communication concepts and gets stuck dreaming about being in a different culture. In world history, I hear Austria-Hungarian Empire and I am stuck thinking about Austria. I don't think my mind will stop wandering until I am there.

How funny it is that a pair of shoes can inspire so much thought within me. But as I think about it, this isn't the first time it's happened. There were the tap shoes that changed my life. The tan character shoes that didn't fit quite right. The black T-strap character shoes that were perfect. The bright white converse that I wore to dorm prom. The silver heals that belonged to Grandma Nadine. The slippers that came from Budapest. The rollerskates that were a dream come true. My entire shoe collection is a collection of dreams and memories connected to a different pair of shoes. Dreams of being far away and dreams of being cozy in my home. Memories of dancing on a stage in a gold dress or strutting with my nose high in the air as Miss Gwendolyn Fairfax would do. They all have meaning...how consumeristic of me to adore my shoes as much as I do. At least a lot of thought has gone into these hundreds of dollars spent on shoes and there is a guarantee that they will last.

These chacos will go far, partnered with a pair of hiking boots. The tap shoes and ballet slippers were for a different season of life, but these shoes are for the next season of life. I hope that this will be my last pair of shoes for a while...I'm ready to be content in this season for a little while. I like where I'm headed and I'd like to stay on this road, wearing my chacos each step of the way.

Me, My Sister and Rosie

I love music. Anyone who knows me knows that music is a part of my being and the way that I live and breathe. Music is my art. It is a way that I make friends. It is how I pour out my emotions. It is what hypes me up and what calms me down. We are all more keen of one sense over another. For some, they could not live without sight and for others, they could not live without smell. But me, life without sound would be awful. Life without sound means life without music and life without music means a life that is not quite right.

Tonight I went to a concert at SPU featuring two bands that I've gotten to know over the last year, one I had never heard of and the headlining act was a woman named Rosie Thomas. I knew nothing about this famous Rosie Thomas other than the fact that she has played music with Sufjan Stevens. Now, because Sufjan is one of my favorite musicians, I decided that I would go to this concert. The opening act was a group of three girls from SPU who I first heard in February at the homecoming talent show. Their music is beautiful, the lyrics lovely and the harmonies perfect. The second band is SPU's hot kids on campus with their clever rock music, wonderful voices and charming personalities. The third was wonderful as well and I was glad to hear them, but Rosie is the one who hit my right in the heart.

Kristi met me there to hear Rosie and I was glad to have her by my side. This concert, to us, was not just listening to some beautiful Rosie Thomas songs along with her hilarious stories, but it was also a time to cry together. At first, there were no tears except from laughing so hard, but soon we were both weeping in each others' arms. All of her songs seemed to be about leaving home. About loving home. About uncertainty. About all of the things Kristi is struggling with. I am struggling with them too, just in a different way.

"In a little while I'll feel better

Gonna travel around the world

Gonna see it all"

Those few words are the story of our lives as the children of parents who were wonderers. We want to wander too. It's harder, though, to wander when they've finally settled. Noah just got back from four months in Austria. I'm going to Austria for six weeks this summer. Kristi is moving to Germany for two years. How can I be without my sister for two years? A lot will happen in those two years. I'll hopefully be an intern working with refugees. I'll graduate from college. I'll turn 21. All these things I desperately wish she could be close by for, but she is being called elsewhere and I can't fight with that. I practically pushed her out the door anyways.

I sometimes wonder what I was thinking when I met the principle of the school she'll be teaching at and telling him I've got a sister who's a teacher. What possessed me to list all of her wonderful traits as a person and as a teacher? Even more so, why did I say to her, "Kristi, you've got to go there. It's beautiful and those kids need you." I guess it was love. I know that she has an adventurous heart and I know that this adventure fit with that heart. I know that she will be a missionary to the missionary kids she'll be teaching. She is going to be the reason that the kids' parents are able to be missionaries.

No, I don't want her to leave for so long. Yet I am continually convincing her that it's the right thing to do and that God will provide enough financial support for her to go. I love her and that's why I don't want her to be gone. It's also the reason I want her to go.

So, as Rosie played songs about a heart of adventure and leaving home, Kristi just lay on my shoulder and her tears dripped onto my arm. I hugged her as my tears dripped onto her. Tears of sadness, tears of uncertainty, tears of thankfulness.

"I have much farther to go

Everything is new and so unpredictable

I should just kick my heels together and go home

But I'm not sure where that is anymore"

Home will always be home, but for the rest of our lives, we'll always be running around living our lives of adventure. No, I have no idea what the future holds, but that's all part of the adventure. And I am thankful that the doors to home are always open.

An Unending Winter

Yesterday, the high was 52 degrees and the low was 41. CINCO DE MAYO and it's 40 degrees? This is not Spring Quarter. Where is the sun and where is the joy? We are in the middle of Week Six and I have yet to feel the ease of sunny days and love exploding out of everyone around me. Why is there still so much pain and hurt in so many lives? Why do questions that have been asked for so long still remain unanswered?

I am happy where I am, yet the world seems to be crashing down all around me and that does not make me happy at all. The world crashes as my dear friend calls me from across the hall to come and hold her as she cries. The world crashes as another reads about the murder of "a man from Edgewood" who is not just a man from Edgewood, but her uncle. The world crashes as the curly haired senior who always has a smile on his face no longer smiles. It crashes in failed tests, broken friendships and messed up plans. These are not the feelings of spring, these were supposed to be gone at the start of the quarter. These are feelings reserved for the darkness of winter that melt away in the sunshine of spring.

Isn't that the whole idea of spring? There is new growth all around and the rain washes away the murk of winter. Yet I don't feel it at all. But perhaps some springs are harder than others and maybe the murk of winter is just a little thicker. Or perhaps the new growth is painful to appear. Yes, I understand that. This last winter was indeed harder than those in the past. And the growth that has appeared from brokenness has been much harder to come by. But I know the sun will come out. It always does.

I don't want to sound depressed, because I'm not. I want to get across the point of hope. There is so much hope in these cold winter days of May. Just think how beautiful it will feel when the sun finally does come out. Eventually these cold drops of rain will wipe away the sadness that is in our lives. And the growth that has occurred in so many lives will flourish and become something completely beautiful. Maybe it will come tomorrow, if we hope hard enough.

Time Travel

When my alarm went off at 6 AM on Sunday morning, a sound had never seemed so out of place. No, not 6 AM, this isn't a time that I like to see. Especially not on Sunday, but on this day it was important for me not to fall back asleep and to get my act together. I rolled out of bed and crept about my room and roamed the silent halls. I packed various foods into a grocery bag to eat breakfast, boiled some hot water for tea and headed to the desolate lobby to wait for Kristi to pull up. This day was a day for a pilgrimage to the past.

Kristi is moving to Germany in a few months and has to do many things in preparation. She has to get her passport together. She has to move out (and give her furniture to me). She has to figure out how to say good-bye. Before she does any of that, though, she has to raise missionary support-- x amount of dollars a month in order to live and teach abroad. She decided to go back to her roots in Concrete, WA to tell the people there what she is about to do. A trek to Concrete hadn't been made for about ten years, so I didn't want her to do it on her own. Going back and walking the same paths you grew up on is something that I think would be hard to do alone and when she asked me to come with, I jumped at the opportunity. She didn't tell me I would have to get up at 6 AM, but it was 100% worth it.

As we drove the familiar path of I-5 north, it felt like any trip to the cabin. When we pulled off in Mt. Vernon and headed east, the trip became a journey to the past. Fields passed by and we entered the North Cascades. This is a trip that Kristi knew well and one that I sometimes wish were more familiar to me...especially after this trip. The mountains were freshly covered with snow, there was a huge herd of elk in a pasture and there was nature that I don't get enough of on 3rd Ave. West. When we entered the tiny town of Concrete--the town that will always remain the same way we left it--memories came into my mind. Memories of choir tours and Sunday school classes.

Walking through the doors of the Community Bible Church, I felt like an adult. There are few points in my life where I have truly felt like I am an adult, but this was one of them. The growing up points so far have been things like buying lettuce, writing a check, and buying a book of stamps...but going back to my roots, this was a point that reaches far beyond the postage stamps. This trip was like time travel...Concrete was frozen in time and Kristi and I advanced ten years. Nobody recognized me unless they saw me next to Kristi. Here we were, the young Dahlstrom girls, but not so young anymore. We've grown. Our hair is no longer cut into mullets and our adventurous hearts stretch far beyond the Skagit River.

Though Seattle is the place I have called home for the last fourteen years, it was important for me to be reminded of the very first place I called home. It was important to be reminded that there is a part of my heart that will always be from that small town. I often wonder what life would look like now had I remained in the mountains longer. I might have become more prone to mountainous adventures like the other four Dahlstroms. Or perhaps I would have been more desperate to get away from home. There's no way of knowing what that picture would look like...that's the beauty of it. Certain events occur that shape the story of our lives and once they happen, there's no turning back. Life is about moving forward, but this trip taught me not to forget the past. It was a way of taking a step back and looking at my life now.

It's exciting. It's leading me in a completely new direction and there is a light directing only the path right in front of me. One step at a time, that's how I'm moving through life right now. First, I will finish spring quarter. Then, I will board a plane to Austria (God willing) and climb mountains in the Alps. After that...well, nobody knows what's after that. And that's where the excitement comes from.