In a world quickly being pulled into AI, we can be grounded when we remember the wisdom and clarity that lies within us, a gift from God.
One of the things that has amazed me in 2025 is the overwhelming creep of AI into my life, from vacation planning to finding answers to questions that in previous years would have taken me multiple Google searches and days to find. As much as AI makes things easier, it definitely makes me cringe when I see how fast the world is changing, from digital AI graphics, to photos that ‘never really existed’, to testimonials that we swear are real, but can be attributed to no human ever. How do we discern truth and grow in wisdom?
Tomorrow will be my 2000th day of a streak in the YouVersion Bible app, where before I begin the “rest of my day”, I spend time in God’s word and grow in my relationship with Jesus. I happened to notice my streak the other day, surprised at the proximity of such a large milestone. Focusing on a streak number is not important to me, but the pull to spend time with Jesus is what draws me in each day. Through that time of prayer and study, whether it is just 5 minutes on the craziest of days or days where I am continuously drawn into more, I can feel God’s presence. I can better see and understand God’s blessings and plans for me. I can better hear where God is calling me next. This is a wisdom that AI will never touch.
In years past, through meditation and reflection, I have focused on a word or phrase to begin a new year, such as Embrace or Joy. As I reflect on this past year and embrace 2026, I am drawn to the words, “Ears to Hear”. Only I can hear what God is calling me to do or where to go. The phrase “one who has ears to hear, let them hear” can be found numerous times in the Bible from the Old Testament prophecies to parables by Jesus in the New Testament. Crazy enough, AI tells me that this phrase appears around 20-25 times throughout the Bible…so it must be important.
In only a few months, our move back to the US will be complete, after more than three and a half years living internationally in Germany. I am moving back to my home state, but to a place where I have not lived in over 25 years. The amount of “newness” in 2026 is enough to make my heart rate spike and my stomach churn.
It was not that long ago that we were experiencing these same feelings of uncertainty, with selling our home and belongings and moving overseas to a new country. One visual that helped me immensely when we were moving to Germany was the podcast (and now book) by Emily P. Freeman, about how to walk out of a room. To summarize her teaching on this topic, she describes that when we end one life chapter and start a new one, it is like walking into a new room. We fear when we walk through the door to a new room, we will fall right through the floor. Emily reminds us that there really is a floor–and we will land. And in that new room, there are people who have been waiting for us to enter and will be so happy we have arrived.
It warms my heart to think of all of the people we have met in this new room in Germany, who are such dear friends and will be deeply missed. But I am reminded that when we leave this room and enter the new room in the US, there are also people there that are waiting for us. Some people we know already and love dearly. Some who we are yet to meet. There are new places for me to discover in this new room. New experiences. New opportunities. New ways for me to share my gifts.
When I invest in a daily relationship with Jesus, I best have “ears to hear” on which way I should go or what I should do. God has amazing plans for me and for each of us. We just have to listen. May we have “ears to hear”. No man-made machine can ever take that ability away from me or you. For that, I am thankful.
Reflecting on the routines needed when you can’t just hop in a car to see family, separated by an ocean in between.
I know this trip well. I have lost count on how many times I have done this, but enough to have a routine. To know how to get through German customs without too much stress. I know my way to the gate. I know where to fill my water bottle and where to get the best sandwich before the flight. When to put on my compression socks and when to get in line.
I recall specific flights that stand out more than others; the previous time flying back for our daughter’s wedding, the last time flying with our youngest to complete her university orientation, or the time when she and I lucked out with my husband’s business points and were able to sit in business class, side by side, watching movies and eating junk food the whole way across the ocean.
I loved our flights when there were 3 of us, our daughter by the window, me on the aisle, and my husband in the middle. A Daddy sandwich. Excitement was palpable between us, heading back to the U.S. either for the first time after moving or excited to spend time at our place in Door County.
All the others just blur together, enough to form my routine, my habits at the Frankfurt airport…trying to make this as pleasant an experience as possible. It is always a challenge when working through a language “speed bump” and cultural differences. A challenge to manage through any anxieties about flying or sore muscles, stiff necks and tired eyes coming from limited sleep.
Reflecting today as this could be my last flight back to the U.S. before we move back officially in the spring, after nearly 4 years of living abroad in Germany.
I can’t really wrap my mind around this yet as we have been living in such a state of unknowns, undetermined dates, uncertainty of locations. But we knew it was inevitable. This realization brings me right back to gratitude.
I know that this experience, living in Europe, is something that few are able to do. We really have been blessed with this opportunity. But it does come at a cost. Today, I am reflecting on the costs of an ocean in between us and our family. Grateful that I am able to do this, me and my routine, at the Frankfurt Flughafen.
Reflecting on the gradual transition to a new and inevitable season of life: empty nesting.
It is definitely quieter around here. Not that she made much noise during her last two years of high school—she often retreated into her “nest” (our nickname for the top floor of our house, where her bedroom is). Still, we knew she’d come down now and then for food or drinks, join us for walks with the dogs, and wander the house in search of her cats. But now? Yes, it’s definitely quieter.
Our youngest has been away at college in the U.S. for over a month now, while her dad and I are back here in Germany—with her cats and our one remaining dog. We are, officially, empty nesters. I can confirm: her nest is empty.
People often ask how things are going in this new stage. I usually say, “It’s quiet and different, but she’s where she’s supposed to be.” Over the past month, I’ve been reflecting on what it means to be an empty nester. It feels less like the dramatic shift of stepping off a plane into a new country, and more like the transition between seasons.
Eventually summer shifts somehow into autumn. You start noticing a few chilly, rainy days, but you’re still wearing your summer clothes—no need to pack them away just yet. Then one day, a tree catches your eye with its changing colors. You’re surprised—how are we heading into another season already? But as the colder days increase and more trees change, it starts to sink in: yes, autumn has arrived.
Raising teenagers is a lot like that. It’s normal for high schoolers to begin pulling away—this slow, natural distancing helps prepare them (and us) for adulthood. When our daughter turned 18, even she wasn’t so sure she was ready for this thing called “adulting.” But this gradual change also gives us, as parents, time to prepare for life without them under our roof every day.
We’ve had children in our home for nearly 25 years. That’s a long season. So what does this next one look like—for me? I don’t know yet. I know it likely involves moving back to the U.S sometime next year, but beyond that, the long-term picture feels a little foggy. That’s hard for someone like me, who loves to plan.
My husband and I do have some exciting plans together—we’ve been preparing for this new chapter for a while. But for me, personally, what are the things I can touch, see, and smell in this new season of life? That’s a good question—and one that will take time, reflection, and prayer to answer.
So, now that I fully realize I’m entering a new season, I’m trying to give myself grace. This transition might take time—a long time—and that’s okay. With each new season comes new opportunities, fresh joys, and unexpected beauty. Sometimes those joys are tucked under a fallen log or hiding in the branches of a tree.
After the holiday whirlwinds, it can be so easy to jump into a new year and not reflect on the blessings of the previous 365 days. Easy to jump into a new day and not be grateful for the gifts in each day. But in reflection and gratitude, peace and joy can be found.
The Christmas decorations are finally all tucked away in their resting places for another year. Our adult children who were all with us for the holidays in Germany are back in the US, back to their lives of work and study. My new calendar has been placed on the wall and already has new notes handwritten on it. It can be easy to turn the page on a new year, a new chapter, and not reflect on the precious experiences of the past 365 days.
For years, before willingly releasing my consciousness to a night of sleep, I would list in my head 3 things that I was grateful for in the day. I wish I was able to write these down every day, but jotting these in a journal nightly has just never worked for me. Listing them in my head helps me to focus on the present, focus on my blessings, whether large or small, and helps send me into slumber with positive thoughts.
This past year, one day I felt God challenging me…”Really? You can only think of 3 things before you go to bed that you are grateful for?” Surely, I could think of at least 10 things before I doze off for the day.
I accepted the challenge and now before I go to sleep, turning the page on another day, I think of 10 things that I am grateful for in the day. God’s blessings are everywhere, and I really do not have a problem thinking of at least 10 things. Even on my worst days, I can find 10 things. If I can think of 10 things, I know my day has been a “10”. This practice has helped me to accept the gift of the day I was given, to put focus and attention on the most special parts of the day, and to guide me into a new day tomorrow.
But tomorrow is never promised. There really is only today. Which brings me back to my reflection on 2024. 2025 is not promised to any of us. But if you are reading this, we all experienced precious 2024 and all its ups and downs. That is very much worthy of pause and reflection.
So, I reapplied my list of 10 things before I go to bed, to reflecting on the past year. How hard would it be to come up with a list? Would it be challenging to narrow it down? I was surprised that my list came to me so easily, in a matter of a minute as I turned back the calendar to the previous year. Each one of these focused on people, as people and relationships make up a strong pillar of my life. (For my family – these are in no particular order as each one is so special).
1 – We were able to spend Christmas and New Year’s with all of our children and their partners. With half of us living on another continent, this truly was a gift as it never had happened before here in Germany. Together, we played board games, laughed, ate, drank, and traveled, just spending time being with each other.
2 – I am so grateful to have been able to spend so much extended time with my family and friends in the US this year, just being with them. A hidden blessing of living so far away is that when you travel over the ocean, you want to stay a while.
3 – My amazing husband surprised me with weekend trips to Bergen, Norway and Naples, Italy as a way for us to see more of Europe and not use his precious vacation time from work. (May we also recommend Lufthansa Surprise Flights, which is how we got to Norway last minute for a cheap deal!). Half of me is Norwegian and setting foot in Norway for the first time was simply a moment I will never forget. Those are my people!
4 – Early in 2024, I had the amazing opportunity to help our future son-in-law propose to our daughter in front of a stunning castle on a golf course. Another moment I will never forget, and we even had sunny blue skies on that February gray day, just at the right moment.
5 – Later in the year, I had the honor of being there in person with our daughter when she shopped (and found) her wedding dress. Milestone moments for sure! Video technology helps us feel connected to others being so far away, but I am grateful that for this moment I was there in person.
6 -This fall, I traveled to Georgia to see where our son was working in an engineering Co-op. As an added bonus, one of my sisters was able to join in the fun. We also traveled to South Carolina to see our uncle (who is a priest) and his church parishes there. I called it “Operation Sun and Son”! A success.
7 – For our youngest, 2024 was a very challenging year. As someone who battles migraines and other medical conditions, dealing with the German medical system here has been extra challenging to say the least. I am so proud of all she has accomplished as a senior in high school, despite all of her medical challenges. But the greatest gift was that she was able to begin a new medicine after turning 18, that has been simply miraculous. I hate to even say how amazing it has been, to not jinx her. But I do give thanks every day for this medicine and for the people who created it. Simply life changing.
8 – Well we bought a house in 2024. That was huge! The house isn’t huge, but if you play Monopoly, you understand the importance of having properties all together. This house is directly behind our small cottage on the water in Wisconsin. We hired an architect and look forward to making this our retirement home someday.
Our future Wisconsin sunrise
9 – I turned 50 in 2024! A big milestone! For 10 years, I had told my friends that I wanted to celebrate my 50th somehow in Europe in a castle. I had no idea that actually would happen. From celebrating the day at a wine tasting in a castle on the 50th parallel here in Germany, to traveling to Ireland and Scotland with our friends from the US, to celebrating in the US at our new home later in the summer, 2024 was year of leaning in on experiences and savoring the moment. These experiences are ones that will grow huge memory dividends in the future — moments that truly last and are what life is about (check out the book “Die with Zero” by Bill Perkins to learn more about memory dividends). We are a huge fan!
10 – Last but not least, this was the year that I realized that I needed to do some planning for our empty nest and put myself out there, leveraging my skills in my current world. I went back to teaching Zumba Fitness. I started an English-speaking faith community. And I even became a demonstrator for Thermomix. (If you don’t know what Thermomix is, just wait until I get back to the US. You will know then).
The next time you lay your head to your pillow, I encourage you to reflect on your day and think of 10 things you are grateful for. It is ok to have repeats! This simple act can help you focus on the present and your many blessings, no matter how challenging the day.
As I have turned this page into the new year, I realize that this coming year is turning the page on so many new chapters. A wedding. A graduation. A possible return to the US. Chapters that are full of treasured characters, plot twists and turns, and a common thread through it all: “God, thank you”.
How can one help a marriage strengthen year upon year? The ability of being home with each other, even when you are away.
My husband isn’t at home on a karaoke stage, nor in a choir or a Zumba fitness class. Similarly, I’m not at home on a fishing boat, in the woods hunting, or working deep within a technical, hands-on problem. Yet, we are home with each other.
As we celebrate our 27th anniversary this year—once again, from different continents—I’m reminded that despite the miles between us, those miles seem to vanish because we are ‘home’ together. I believe that in any marriage or partnership that endures over the years, there must be that shared feeling of ‘being home’ with each other, to navigate life’s trials and joys. ‘Being home’ means feeling safe to be yourself with one another. It means knowing your spouse or partner so well that you’re both committed to supporting each other in becoming the best versions of yourselves—and extending grace and forgiveness when you inevitably fall short. ‘Being home’ is about helping to make what nourishes your partner’s soul a reality.
Today, my husband is ‘home’ in our new home back in the US, working diligently to prepare it for our future life and feeding his soul through quiet and rest. Meanwhile, I am ‘home’ here in Germany, supporting our youngest as she begins her final year of high school. For the past three years, our anniversary has been celebrated across continents due to circumstances beyond our control, such as the challenges of helping our adult children with university moves while we’re overseas. Yet, even when we’re not physically together for these milestones, we’ve remained ‘at home’ with each other. WhatsApp messaging and technology certainly helps, but it still requires communication and prioritization—foundations that are essential in any strong marriage or partnership.
Over the years, we’ve lived in many homes, across the U.S. and now in Europe. I remember countless moments of uncertainty, not knowing where our next home would be—sometimes not even which state or country. Yet, we always reminded each other, and our family, that as long as we were together, we were home. I thank God for the incredible gift of an amazing, supportive, and loving husband with whom I’ve had the privilege of being ‘home’ with for so many years.
We’re not promised tomorrow, but we cherish the gift of the present. I am deeply grateful for the journey of the past 27 years—the ups, the downs, and the wisdom we’ve gained along the way. Most importantly, I am thankful for the gift of being ‘home’ with my husband. I love you, my dear. See you soon.
There are many weeks of my life that I could not recount the key moments when looking back. However, the events of this recent week will be a permanent part of my story as I experienced mountain top highs and the deepest valleys. The highs and the lows, their juxtaposition running concurrently together, reminding me “this is life”. And where my gratitude for the light AND the dark places in my life rests, there my heart, life, and joy is.
I recall my mother saying many years ago when she was alive that she thought everyone should have to take an art appreciation class, as she had learned so much in that university 100-level art class. As for me, I have a hard time discerning all the meanings in works of painted art. But when my friend (a trained artist), shared with me that in the most enriching and vibrant life, the highs are going to be extra bright and the lows will be super low, I could definitely visualize that analogy, especially after the past week. A week that was a complete roller coaster from the highest of life’s highs to the lowest of life’s lows.
Yes, even I can recognize that a painting is flat and boring without the striking differences of color and the use of light…and shadows.
My friend and I were walking through the forest, walking the dogs, reflecting on the challenges and joys of the previous week. I was sharing with her the details on how I was asked by our daughter’s boyfriend (now fiancé), to help pull off a wedding proposal to our daughter. He wanted something private and scenic. How exciting and I was able to take part in the planning!
I had ideas, one of a beautiful hike to Burg Eltz, a 2-hour drive from here in Germany. But nothing really clicked on how to successfully pull that off until I bumped into my local German friend, who I knew would have local recommendations. And… she did. She recommended the Schlosshotel Kronberg, just a 15-minute drive from our house. The Schloss (castle) also happened to be on a golf course, which our daughter is passionate about, featuring a breathtaking view of the Schloss from one of the greens. I checked it out several times in advance, speaking with the people at the front desk, and worked in secret with our future son-in-law on how this could work.
This was my view of the Schlosshotel when I visited earlier in the week to check things out. Stunning, but grey. It would have to do though, rain or shine.
When the day came last week, we were so happy to see some little bits of sun outside. In Germany, we only see rain and clouds and more rain and clouds this time of year. But that day was different. After a beautiful lunch at a local French cafe together, I invited her to check out this local golf course with us, saying that a friend recommended that we see it. Everything went according to plan and as I casually said, walking up to the 14th tee box as the sprawling Schloss came into view, “I need to tie my shoe, you go ahead”…that was his cue to keep walking hand in hand to the spot where he wanted to propose. I stayed back and couldn’t hear a word, but when I saw him go on one knee and our daughter jumping up for joy and then, their kissing and embracing…I knew that this was one of the best moments to witness in life. It was absolutely perfect. Peaceful. Quiet. Colorful. Loving. And the skies were even blue, just for that moment.
The day of the proposal, just several days later from when I visited. Simply perfect.
The view from our Airbnb rooftop in Athens
Fast forward 48 hours and we then were together as a family on our way to Athens, for a weekend getaway while our daughter and future son-in-law were here in Europe for a few weeks. We arrived in time to check into our home for the weekend in the Athens City Center and celebrated the setting of the sun with a glass of wine on the Airbnb rooftop featuring a beautiful view of the Parthenon. The special evening was topped off with an incredible Greek dinner outside, with some of the best Baklava for dessert. What a way to begin our Athens experience!
And then, the next morning, I woke to the news that my dad had received his biopsy results that we were waiting for, but not the results we had hoped for. Aggressive prostate cancer. In that moment, everything else in the world slowed and faded into the distance, making my peripheral vision cloudy and muddy. All I could hear was my heart beating rapidly in my chest. This news quickly sucked me back almost 24 years earlier, when we had received the news of my mother’s inoperable glioblastoma multiforme brain tumor. Is this really happening, I wanted to wonder? But I knew it really was.
And then soon after, we were faced with the juxtaposition of a new day in Athens. The e-bike tour that we had planned and were so excited for. The cats upon cats that our younger daughter was so excited to see. And dad, and the rest of our family, thousands of miles away, and we were there helpless.
I knew that we had to go on our bike tour, even though we were grieving and pained at the same time.
I reminded myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, take deep breaths, and pray.
On our tour, the tour guide led us up to Observatory Hill where we could see the Parthenon in the distance. She offered to take photos of each of us and knew exactly how to make these photos original. Right before we were going to leave, I felt the urge to ask her to take one photo of me. She asked me to jump up in the air like our daughter, and crazy enough, I tried. And thought, I failed. But what I didn’t realize is that in looking at the photos afterwards, she caught snapshots of me laughing. Joyful. Amidst the pain. Amidst the sadness. Joy can exist in the pain.
The highest of highs can exist with the lowest of lows.
After our weekend escape to Athens, we boarded the plane and as I buckled my seatbelt and put my headphones in, my mind began to race to my father and his diagnosis. What’s next? I could have easily been sucked down with grief. But I decided I should listen to the Ash Wednesday sermon podcast from the past week by our former pastor, Rev. Dr. Lorne Hlad, of Good Shepherd Lutheran Church in Cincinnati, Ohio. And as soon as I heard his first opening sentences, I knew I needed to hear that sermon (you can see and hear his full sermon here).
In his message, Pastor Lorne talked about how we live in the tension of the uncertainty of this life and the certainty of death. He shared how we try to overcome and outrun these realities, however, we can’t.
He then asked, “What’s that like FOR YOU? …
In what ways have those two realities, the uncertainty of this life and the certainty of death, made themselves known to you in your life this year”?
Boom. I felt like a weight had just dropped on my chest. I knew God was talking to me through Pastor Lorne, thousands of miles away.
Through his sermon, he challenged us that perhaps the first step is just naming and facing those realities. “We are reminded, life is fragile, life is precious, life is fleeting”. It is easy for us to become ‘cynical or jaded’, but through Ash Wednesday we are reminded that ‘everything matters’. We are reminded of God’s faithful and overwhelming promises to us. ‘Every person, every breath, every relationship…matters.’ Then he suggested that perhaps our failure to recognize the value in all of those things, is what is behind our pain.
His words reminded me where my priorities lie and helped me process those mountain top highs and the darkest valley lows of the past week. His challenge was clear: for us to re-value precious moments, both the grand and the ordinary, people, and relationships. In doing so, we are to not be mournful about how we will all be dust someday, but to be encouraged and empowered, because everything matters. We can “re-claim our lives, ‘for where our treasure is, there our heart is’ (Matthew 6:21)”.
The next day during my daily prayer and devotion time, God led me to several devotional plans by the author, Kara Tippetts, who was a mother of four, wife, author, blogger, and died of cancer at the young age of 38. I had never read any of Kara’s works, but I was feeling called to read more of her wisdom, written down from her life years earlier. One of Kara’s quotes was “One of the things we’ve learned this crazy year is to enjoy the moments. The thing about suffering is it makes the sweet moments so much sweeter…The joy in the mundane feels so much more real when sadness has been walked through and tasted”. What a blessing she is still able to continue sharing her words of wisdom on living a life filled with joys and suffering.
This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24
The highs. The lows. The light. The shadows. A life without the light and the shadows is lacking full definition and vibrancy. The more brilliance, the more shadows, just as in the most treasured of paintings.
With the brilliance and the shadows,
the greater is the total life experience.
Where can you experience more brilliance in your life? How close and present are the simultaneous shadows?
May we extend our gratitude for the brilliance and the shadows. All of these intertwined produce abundant living, an abundant life bursting with colors.
Here is to cherishing abundant living.
“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly”
There was something so different inside of me as we were set to land in Norway. Never before have I been in a country, other than the US, where my ancestors have lived for generations and generations. How could it be that I felt like I was coming home?
I felt something different in my heart and gut as our plane approached the land underneath us. Land that contained snow-capped mountains, steep cliffs, and water inlets spreading across and everywhere in between. This was not going to be like any other prior time landing somewhere on vacation. The sun itself was making a grand debut topping off this wondrous experience of seeing Norway for the first time in my life.
Never did I imagine how awestruck I would be to finally set foot in a country where my great-great-great….grandparents lived. I love to tell people that the left half of me is Norwegian and the right half is Swedish. I am proud to be of 100% Scandinavian descent, which is a bit more rare in the melting pot of the US. It is crazy when I meet people from Sweden or Norway here in Germany and realize…wow, I even look like them. And then, actually being in Norway, I was not prepared to actually feel like I was coming a bit home.
Growing up, we were always reminded of our Scandinavian ancestry when we travelled to visit our grandparents. Because we lived closer to my mother’s parents, about a 5 hour drive away, we were more ‘exposed’ to Swedish customs, such as food and holiday traditions because her great grandparents were all born in Sweden. In fact, they all were born in Sweden in the same area, but their children all subsequently met and married in Minnesota (the immigrant population definitely settled together). My dad’s mother lived much further away, a good 12 hour drive, so visiting her and our family there was more rare, but just as treasured. There we could eat Grandma’s Lefse as Grandma Harriet was Norwegian. It was from her that we learned the precious exclamation, “Uff da”. Handy for many of life’s circumstances.
Lefse, a Norwegian soft flat bread made out of potatoes. Yum!
I remember a framed family tree on our hallway wall when I was young that listed my Swedish ancestors on my mother’s side. I was so intrigued by who those people were as I walked past that tree daily. What were they like? What did they look like? What do I have in me today that ties to them? And what about my dad’s side, from Norway?
When I was little, I begged my grandmother (who was of Swedish descent) to teach me Swedish. This was way before Duolingo, but as a retired school teacher, she was thrilled to pull out her children’s Swedish school books. She taught me to count to 10 and how to say the cow was black. But we were not able to be there for any period long enough for me to pick up the language from her. How wondrous would it be to travel back in time and learn things that we now find more important, to have more of a connection between those generations that have come before us.
Hidden Parts of Me
Photos of several of my great -grandparents from Minnesota
Glimpses of the past
So about 3 years ago, I felt the urge to dive more into my roots and dig into my ancestry. What would I learn? What could I find? I have always enjoyed the show “Finding Your Roots” on PBS, so I wanted to see what I could learn for myself. I found many unexpected things (I will leave that one for a future blog…or maybe book), but the more and more that I searched through the records to connect to my ancestors, the more excited and dedicated I felt to put the pieces of our ancestry puzzle together. I knew names off the top of my head, but in most cases, they were faceless. I have not seen photos of many of them, my relatives from my Norwegian side, but I could tell you when they were born, where they were born and who were their neighbors. In some cases, you can even see what their handwriting looked like by looking at Draft cards from the wars.
Bryggen, the old wharf of Bergen, consists of old wooden buildings that have been rebuilt numerous times with traditional methods (due to fires). Bergen was an important part of the Hanseatic League’s trading empire from the 14th to the mid 16th century and is a UNESCO World Heritage site.
But landing in Norway…that put real places in my line of sight. I could see the mountains, the fjords, the houses that looked so much like those in Minnesota and Wisconsin. I was stunned by how much things looked like the Midwest of the US (aside from the mountains and sea). We landed in Bergen, Norway, which is located about a 12 hour drive south of Trondheim, where my Norwegian ancestors came from. In Bergen, we went on a fjord tour where we saw first hand how isolated the houses and small villages were because of the fjords and mountains. According to National Geographic, the coastline of Norway, one of the longest in the world, would circle the world two and a half times if stretched out. There are few roads connecting these villages- thus the dependance on the sea. I can just imagine how even more isolated the communities must be 12 hours to the north. Those were my ancestors. Leaving their tight-knit community for something different, “America Fever”. Was it out of desire for something better? Desperation? Adventure?
None of us had any input in how we came to be in this world.
But it all made each of us, us.
All I know is a series of events over thousands and thousands of years (and the grace of God) resulted in my DNA being created with my arrival on this earth. I would imagine that in those generations and generations before me, there were many stories of joy and love and many of heartbreak and pain. I am happy to be though in this space. In this time. In this place. And I am happy to learn any connections with those generations to help me better understand me. I am who am I because of the people who came before me.
Opportunities to fill our cup surround us each day from enjoying a clear breath of air, to visiting a place new to us, to spending precious time with family. When we recognize that those opportunities are finite, we can best savor the cup.
I am a renowned “the cup is half full” kind of person. Don’t get me wrong. I can easily slide into a worse case scenario faster than the average non-risk taker. However, in any situation, I can quickly find the bright side. Raining? At least you have an umbrella. Hurt your ankle? At least you don’t need surgery. My husband is more of a realist, and begs at times for me to just wallow with him in his trials for a while. In fact, last week he said to me, “you know at times, your positivity can be annoying’. I love you, too, hon.
I am always looking for the opportunity in any situation to look at it in a different way, a positive light. Being grounded in constant gratitude helps a lot, however, I find that it is easier to be grateful for something when I know that good feeling, amazing experience…won’t last forever.
Our adult son was here with us in Germany over Christmas and knowing that his time was limited with us, we made conscious choices to spend time together each day. Play that new board game. Go explore something new. Take a walk. I feel like we probably spend more quality time with our adult children having them on another continent, because when they are here…we are HERE! We are present and treasuring each moment, because we know that it is not going to last for long.
One of our favorite games is Jackbox. We love to play together…and remotely add in family members who are not with us. Thank God for technology!
For Christmas 2022, I gave my husband a simple greeting card with 30 lines written on it and I titled it “Dreißig (30) Deutsche (German) Dates”. I knew that he wanted nothing tangible for Christmas. He needed ‘no thing’. What he needed though, was time with me, time together as husband and wife. And I recognized that our time as expats in Germany was going to be over before we knew it.
I told him that I was going to take him on 30 Deutsche Dates in the coming year, doing something that we have never done before or ever gone to. He would be surprised with each one. Some might cost money – some might be totally free. But they would make sure that we experienced amazing things that were in our area, and more importantly, ensured that we spent time together as spouses.
All of the 30 Deutsche Dates in 2023 did not fully happen (I think I was somewhere around 25), however, that was one of the best decisions I could have made last year. This opened my eyes to look for opportunities for us to get out in our little world and to do that, together. So for Christmas this year, I gave him another card, where we can record this year’s “Ditto Dates”. A Ditto date in our world might be something totally new (we are in Year 2 of Deutsche Dates)…or it might be a fun date that we did last year and want to do again. I am still going to keep looking for the opportunities that are out there, around me, because I know that clock is ticking. I don’t know how long I will be on this earth, but I do know that as an expat, you don’t live anywhere too long.
Things get clearer when your endpoint is almost visible.
So what is the biggest tourist attraction within 60 minutes of your house? Have you been there? Is there somewhere locally that you have always wanted to see or do? Many people will say that they never see the incredible and unique things that are right under their noses. We think…’life is busy’. It’s expensive. We don’t have time. We get in our regular routines and the thought of doing something that we have never seen or done, never comes to our mind. I can assure you, you can find unique experiences right around the corner, for little to no cost at all.
We still do not know how long we will be living here in Germany. But as I enter a new year and realize how fast this special time here is passing, I am encouraging myself to make this my year of “Embracing Opportunities”. We are beyond blessed to be living here and I give thanks to God each day for this rare opportunity. But if you are reading this, that means you are breathing…and that also means we are each blessed to be HERE. Some opportunities around us are easier to see than others. Keep your eyes and ears open. Talk with others. Make a plan and get out and do it. Embrace your opportunities.
Always darkest before the dawn? We were soon proven otherwise with a brilliance of color spanning the horizon of Uluru.
The morning alarm came way too early for me. “The bus leaves at 5 am tomorrow morning”, we were directed by our CEO (Chief Experience Officer of our G Adventure tour). I find it hard to get super excited at 5 am, but we were headed to go watch the sunrise over Uluru in the red center of Australia. I honestly had no idea what to expect.
We had savored the sunset the evening prior, where with each handful of minutes, the shadows and colors changed over Uluru and across the spanning Australian Outback horizon. But our bus driver promised that this would be even more spectacular. As we drove, we could just barely make out hints of pink and yellow on the vast horizon. This was going to be special.
The land that we were travelling on is Aboriginal land, now Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. The traditional owners of the land, Anangu (Yankunytjatjara and Pitjantjatjara people), have been joint managing their land with the Federal Government (Parks Australia) since 1985 when the title deed to Uluru-Kata Tjuta land trust was handed back to them. Land that has been theirs since the beginning of time, where their ancestors have lived for over 30,000 years. We were being welcomed here today to look around and to learn: to understand Anangu, to respect their knowledge, and to open our minds and hearts to appreciate their enduring culture.
We had learned about Tjukurpa (pronounced ‘chook-orr-pa’), the foundation of their culture and why Uluru-Kata Tjuta is such a sacred place for Anangu. Tjukurpa is more than just our western views of laws and culture. Beyond being the traditional law that guides Anangu, Tjukurpa refers to the creation period when ancestral beings created the world. Tjukurpa provides answers to important questions, how to live and care for one another.
“Tjukurpa refers to the past, the present, and the future, at the same time. This knowledge never changes, it always stays the same”.
– Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park Visitor Guide
As we exited the bus, small white lights lit up a visible short path, headed into blackness. We followed each other, one by one in our group until we came upon a rainbow of light sprinkled off in the distance. Field of Light.
Artist Bruce Munro was inspired by a trip to Uluru in 1992 to create Field of Light, a collection of 50,000 interconnected, solar recyclable lights that now span over 7 football fields, like a sprawling garden of desert flowers in the darkness.
We were encouraged to take our time, slowly walking through Field of Light, and to absorb. As in a labyrinth, we meandered at our pace along the paths, not really sure where any path would take us. Each path was dark, lit up only by small white lights on the side, bordered by the brilliance of ever-changing reds, greens, and violets.
As I wandered and reflected, I could feel that each viewing of Field of Light was unique, as each light changed second by second. In contrast, Uluru, having been here for hundreds of millions of years, stood quiet and resilient somewhere in the distance. As we traveled the paths, we could see more and more, glorious pinks and purples on the horizon, a sign of the sun’s arrival. But little by little, the 50,000 solar lights, were starting to lose their energy and brilliance. They would be dim soon until the blazing Australian sun would charge their cells once again.
I felt that connection that artist Bruno Munro wanted us to experience: a connection to something bigger than our lives. Just like those lights, our lives exude brilliance for a time and then, dim and fade. While shining bright, we are intertwined, making something even more spectacular together than one single light. However, generations of light will come and go, all just a minute in the span of the time of Uluru.
To photograph or to just be? My constant struggle with how to experience amazing wonders around me.
Overlooking Doubtful Sound in New Zealand
Our overnight boat cruise of 58 passengers in Fjordlands National Park was setting sail out of the glacially-formed, remote Doubtful Sound in New Zealand, into the Tasman Sea. To get here, we had taken a 45 minute cruise in a catamaran across Lake Manapouri, followed by a 45 minute bus ride over the steepest commercial road in New Zealand, through dense rainforests across Wilmot Pass. We were nowhere close to anyone.
“Wow, we only get a few days out of the season when we can go this far into the sea”, our captain said, as we soaked in the ocean breeze, staring over the water becoming illuminated with the setting sun. “Someone here must have done something good for this”. The Fjordlands National Park is one of the wettest places on earth getting 7 meters of rain a year, with over 200 rain-days a year. All we had that February day was bright blue sky.
Our luck was continuing as the naturalist on board alerted us of seals ahead bathing on surrounding rocks. Everyone rushed to the boat, mobile phones in hand to capture any bit of video or photos of this wonder: seeing seals in their natural habitat.
I could already feel that tension of whether or not to take a photo or just soak it in.
I love to tell stories, so it is hard for me to just sit and soak it in. I want to share this wonder with my family and friends who are not able to be sitting with me and also to better savor it again in the future with a visual reminder.
Not long after we saw the seals, we learned that Bottlenose dolphins were nearby. What luck! At first they were out in the distance, where we saw just small glimpses of grey, sleek bodies poking out of the water causing a splash.
Slowly we saw more and more splashes, not sure if the dolphins had told their friends about their requested evening performance or if we just finally learned what to look for. It was not long before we saw 10 to 20 splashes getting closer and closer to our boat. They were coming right for us.
Soon we had several dolphins traveling parallel with the boat and their friends. They were so playful, rising up and swimming down, speeding through the currents. You could sense their passion as they streamed through the water, up and down. We were in their home, and they were thrilled to give us a warm welcome show.
Again, I quickly felt that tension. Take a picture. Take a video. How can I get that captured on film? Should I just sit and admire? I could sense that I was not alone in this dilemma, as phones went up and down, trying to balance between both. Capturing this for others, for the future or recording this just for us, right here and now in our own memories. “Just sit and watch”, I could hear one of our friends advise. So I sat and just embraced the moment of watching these playful dolphins, living carefree in their sea haven.
The following morning, our boat traveled up into the quiet Hall Arm of the sound, for a ‘moment of silence’. As we pulled up facing the carpeted green fjord, the fjord’s mirror image flipped onto the still water, the captain said he was going to turn off the engine and the generator. He asked us to sit down and not move for 10 minutes. He wanted us to soak all this beauty in, in silence.
“Put your phones down. I promise you after 10 minutes, the scenery here is still going to look just as breathtaking”, our captain directed. How thankful I was that I was given no option. I zipped up my pocket after stowing my phone.
“Look through your own lens”, he advised.
As the engines sounds sputtered to silence, I surveyed the scene before me and then closed my eyes. As if an orchestra, on cue, I could hear there were waterfalls. I had not noticed them before we stopped. Next, cued the birds. I could hear a distance bird call to my left. One to the center. Then another unique one to the right as the conductor announced their entrances. A whole orchestra was at our feet, just waiting to be heard once we turned down our noise.
After our ten minutes of meditation, the engines slowly started up and the boat slowly took up speed. The orchestra of nature was now covered up again as we sailed away.
As I reflected on that experience in Doubtful Sound, I could only come back to the world ‘balance’. Is it crucial that we turn off the noise in our life so we can hear the music around us? Absolutely. Is there value in sharing pictures of life wonders with those who are not able to be there? Absolutely. Is there value to create visuals to enhance your future recall of incredible life experiences? Absolutely. It is a balance. If one pulls you too far in the other direction, your scale will tip. It is a balance.
Embracing Second Half Wonders 