Saturday, May 27, 2017

Baccalaureate 2017: Make Your Music

Grateful for the opportunity to share some words at our Baccalaureate Ceremony this year... so here's a surprise post (since it's already written, it's easy to "publish"), just in case anyone ever checks back here.
(It's only been about 3, 4 years?)

Congratulations graduates, parents, family members, colleagues, friends. What a big moment this is...and what an accomplished group of humans!  I am proud and grateful to stand here with you this evening as a part of this community to celebrate you and hopefully to encourage you to use your unique gifts as you leave this place.

Two weeks ago, my 4th and 5th graders were preparing for their spring concert. They were especially excited to play the electric song Stir Crazy that the Moxie Strings taught them earlier this year… One particular student, CJ was counting down the days before this concert. He’s bright and enthusiastic, but also kind of an old soul, articulate, with big vocabulary and even bigger ideas. For him, making music, (especially playing the violin) is basically like breathing. While most people click pens or mindlessly fidget with their hands, CJ incessantly plucks his violin. He’s the kind of 10 year old  that shows up a week in advance before his own concert, just to be a helper for the younger kids.
So last Tuesday, moments before our performance, as the lights dimmed and I walked through the  side door onto the stage, I was startled to find him behind the curtain in tears, struggling to articulate anything through his sobs. He simply held up his violin….in two pieces. It was ugly, the scroll was completely detached, splintered wood, strings hanging. So I sprang into action, gushing reassurances about rental instrument insurance and rushing to my classroom to get a replacement violin he could play. But he still wasn’t ready to walk on stage...he needed to see his parents, who were, of course, sitting dead center in the front row of the packed house.  He ran to the front row, holding up the two broken pieces for his parents (and the entire audience) to see, unashamed of the tears, his sorrow was so deep, so heavy, his love for his violin and the irreparability of the instrument he loved.
CJ has great parents.  Really great parents. In fact, I probably won’t ever forget what his father said to him. Actually, I wish I’d had these words for him...and I wish I’d had these same words for my own daughter when, that same night, her violin ended up missing.
CJ’s father looked him in the eye and told him to go on stage with the borrowed school violin.  He said it would be hard, but it would be okay. And then he said, “CJ go on stage and play.
This isn’t your instrument. YOU ARE YOUR INSTRUMENT.”  

And those words, I am going to try to remember. I want to remember them to tell my students, to tell my children, and actually…  to tell myself.  “YOU are your instrument.”  

Things break.
Circumstances will be awful sometimes. Even horrific.
And life will be overwhelming.
Sometimes you will fail.
Expect all this. You cannot change it.
But you can still make your music.

You don’t know how many days you will have in this life, but use each one to practice and master your music and share it with the world. Don’t let a broken violin keep you from making the music that only you can make. Even when you feel broken and suddenly unprepared or out of your league…or when you doubt that you have what it takes.  Or when it seems that everyone else has it figured out except for you. When you doubt that you belong. Perhaps that small (or large) crisis will happen for you at the worst possible moment. When, like CJ, you tried so hard to be prepared and “together” but everything actually falls apart. It may feel like stepping on stage is impossible. In those difficult moments you have a choice: to quit or to make your music. And I hope you choose to make your music. Even if it means you have to improvise, or use a different tool than you expected. Don’t crumple under the shock of a broken violin. Don’t accept defeat (and miss the moment you’ve been waiting for, preparing for)...go step back on stage and play.

Sometimes, you’ll even have to improvise the notes.  Like on January 15th, 2009, when Chesley Sullenburger, or “Sully”, the pilot of US Airways Flight 1549 was forced into a high stakes improvisational performance that shocked the world.  A flock of Canadian geese took out both of his engines just minutes after taking off from LaGuardia...suddenly floating with ZERO engines, with little control, seconds away from an impending disaster and destruction, ... and 155 people on board...he had a daunting choice to make.  Should he try to make it back to LaGuardia? Attempt a landing at Teterboro Airport?  or make a crash landing in the Hudson River? Sully didn’t have an hour to decide. He had seconds. In those seconds, he had to process years of knowledge and practice and apply them to the present. The flight manual had guidelines for engine failure, but no definitive answers to his immediate question.  He had to create his own solution… he had to improvise.  He decided to head for the Hudson River, to attempt a crash landing in the water.  And incredibly, he did it.  The plane landed on the water without breaking completely apart. It floated on the water long enough for the passengers to evacuate and wait on the wings until they were rescued by ferry boats.. And all 155 lives were saved. We can easily imagine the outcome if “Sully” had succumbed to the overwhelming horror of the moment, if he had delayed just a few seconds longer... or spent his time panicking or wishing away the circumstances. “Sully” had practiced his instrument, mastered it even.  But he had never dreamed that he would have to play this music. It hadn’t been done before.

You’re going to have to make split-second decisions as well. And while most of yours won’t be life or death, they will have consequences. Know that you have years of experience behind you to make the right call. Process the information and choose your direction. In a book about his experiences, Sullenberger wrote, “We need to try to do the right thing every time, to perform at our best, because we never know which moment in our lives we’ll be judged on.” ― Chesley B. Sullenberger  
There have been so many defining moments in many heroes who in moments when you or I might have been overcome, they chose to overcome, to improvise and make a brave choice despite the odds being stacked against them…  Martin Luther King Jr, Oskar Schindler, Ludwig van Beethoven, Rosa Parks, Albert Einstein, Alexander Hamilton, Malala Yousafzai, Marie Curie, Itzak Perlman

And yet, despite all these inspiring examples...and all our best ideals,  it is still easy (at least for me), to be overcome. When little girls (little, like the age of my own daughters) ...when little girls walking out of a concert become the target of deadly explosions….inexplicable acts of violence no longer shock us. Terrorism is now a frightening possibility to be prepared for anywhere at anytime. Racism still divides our country, everyone does not have equal opportunities….or even clean water in America, young children and teenagers suffer from depression in staggering numbers, poverty and hunger and even slavery are closer to us than we like to acknowledge. Each week, sometimes each day, we could choose a tragedy that overwhelms us. We know too much, the stories and statistics are so overwhelming and the information feed so constant on our screens, that we protect ourselves by tuning it out, sometimes we tune it out with mindless entertaining distractions, or busy-ness, we protect ourselves with numbness, superficiality, or cynicism.  And despite our values of kindness and empathy, sometimes we actually feel nothing and do nothing because we don’t know what to do, because we can’t fix it and we feel powerless.
But we are not powerless. We are instruments, and in the face of evil, we practice our music, we use our voice, and we love the people around us.  

After hearing that John F. Kennedy had been shot in 1963, Leonard Bernstein, (the American composer) was devastated.  Bernstein not only esteemed Kennedy as an American President who valued the arts and believed in the enduring power of learning and reason. But he had also been a friend. As he processed his grief, he wrote a letter:
“We ...are...numb with sorrow at this murder, and with rage at the senselessness of the crime. But this sorrow and rage will not inflame us to seek retribution; rather they will inflame our art. Our music will never again be quite the same. This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before. “ ~Leonard Bernstein
Whenever disheartening news or world tragedies or personal sorrows threaten to overcome me, I remember his brave and practical response to violence…   “to make music intensely, beautifully, and devotedly.” When I am unable to see past the darkness, this gives me something to do, to lead me toward light. It helps to remind me of what is good: making our own our own unique way.. That is a good that overcomes evil.  

Around 56 AD, the apostle Paul, wrote a letter to the church in Rome, with a similar message: Do not be overcome by evil, he said.  “But overcome evil with good.”
In that same letter, Paul wrote an inspiring list of actions to overcome evil with good… a kind of guide for how to live in the world as a non-conformist... Instead of conforming, he said, be transformed by renewing your MIND.  Practice your unique gifts:
If your gift is service, devote yourself to serving. If it is teaching, devote yourself to teaching. If it is encouragement, devote yourself to encouraging. Give with no strings attached. Lead with passion. Show love without pretending. Love each other like the members of your family. Be the best at showing honor to each other.  Don’t hesitate to be enthusiastic... Be happy in your hope, stand your ground when you’re in trouble, and devote yourselves to prayer…..Be happy with those who are happy, and cry with those who are crying. Consider everyone as equal, and don’t think that you’re better than anyone else. Instead, associate with people who have no status. Don’t think that you’re so smart. Don’t pay back anyone for their evil actions with evil actions. If possible, to the best of your ability, live at peace with all people.
(Romans 12 paraphrased)

This is how it is to overcome evil with good. It’s daily. It’s usually quiet and small, unnoticed actions and decisions. It’s how we do our work, how we talk to people, how we spend our days.  Mother Theresa said “Be faithful in the small things, for in them your strength lies.”

What are these small things?
Love with sincerity. Show up and be present. Look up and notice each moment. Look up from your screens and notice and honor other people. Listen to the music they create.  Be creative and brave and improvise with them. Be inspired by one another. Stand your ground and do what is right. Be curious and take risks. Use your gifts. Use your voice. Pray. Help people in need. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Live in peace. Express gratitude as often as you can.
Practice your instrument every day.

“Be faithful in these small things,
for in them your strength lies.”
And with that strength,
you will overcome whatever lies ahead.  

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Spiced Cherry Pear Pie
6 pears
1 can tart pitted cherries in water
1cup sugar
2 TBSP instant pectin
1/4 cup tapioca (dry)
1tsp cinnamon
1tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp apple pie spice 

2 pie crusts

Mash 1 pear (peeled and cored) with cherries (in water), add sugar, spices, pectin, stir.  Add extra sugar or spice to taste. Add dry tapioca.

 Prepare pie crust (I use Bon Appetite's recipe). 

Poor fruit filling into small sauce pan and simmer on medium till it begins to thicken and flavors heighten. (Add sugar and/or tapioca as needed)

Peel and slice pears.  Arrange pear slices inside of pie tin on top of unbaked crust.  Add butter slices (about 5 tbsp).

Cool fruit mixture and add sugar/spice to taste, if needed. 

Pour fruit mix on pears. 

Lattice weave top of pie crust and pinch edges together.

Brush top crust with egg wash and sprinkle with sugar.

Bake for 15 minutes at 425.... Then reduce heat to 375 and continue baking until crust is golden but not burned.

Inspired by a fall weekend escape to northern MI wine country with my love.  We met a cherry-pear butter that broke our hearts and left us feeling deprived (when the jar was empty).  The spicy warm sweet flavors of pear and cherry...  With a flaky buttery crust.  

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Slow-cooked Mushroom Sherry Chicken

4 Chicken breasts
1 8 oz. package cream cheese
3/4 cup dry sherry
2 tbsp. butter
mini-bella mushrooms quartered
garlic (minced)
2 tbsp. dry italian dressing mix

Briefly brown chicken.  Lightly sauté mushrooms and garlic in butter.  Place chicken, mushrooms, garlic, cream cheese, sherry and italian dressing in slow cooker.  Cook on low 5 hours.

Teach four violin lessons...then eat.

My only mistake...I only made half of this recipe.  Never underestimate your family. We all wish there were leftovers.

We're trying to savour these sacred days of Advent....telling stories of God's provision, finding beauty and joy in our daily lives, lighting candles, waiting with expectation, preparing, trying to make space.  Celebrating our abundance with gratitude...trying to hold "things" loosely (while at the same time, frantically ordering more and more boxes to be shipped from to fill our dining room).  

It seems like most efforts to carve out space...are piles of (important?) papers, busy-ness: that 'badge of honor' we wear so nobly and think it will release us eventually, by stressful complexities in our work or by the hopelessness of relational chasms, by minor disappointments, by daily irritations, by guilt, by less 'worthy' expectations that cloud the truer ones, by whining and grumbling children and adults (self included).

Now that my school concert is over, I'm trying to clear some much needed 'space' inside (my brain)...preparing my heart for advent, but I'm also expectantly waiting and preparing our house for our first overnight houseguests in our new home, so I'm trying to carve out some physical space in my'll start with a place to walk in my laundry room (that room that is currently completely covered with mountainous baskets full of clean clothes).  

Well, actually I'm avoiding that task by blogging.  My excuse...a really good dinner experiment that I needed to remember.  

Monday, November 19, 2012


Be responsible for your own interior life. 


Renewal is not a passive 'vegging.'  To be renewed, change your activity. 

~Jill Briscoe

These themes roll around inside of me often.   As simple as they are...they struck me so profoundly this summer.  They seem to appear and reappear conversations, in writing, in sermons, and... from my yoga instructor.  Once an idea really strikes you though, I think it echoes all around obvious that you see it everywhere.

I think about these things often.  But maybe writing them down will bring me one step closer to actually practicing them daily.

Be faithful in little things, for in them your strength lies.  
~Mother Theresa

Monday, November 05, 2012


I'm treasuring these last few sunfilled afternoons.....before that long darkness comes.

It's my favorite time of day... when I'm home and it's sunny.  Afternoon light fills our house more than at any other time of day...the kitchen glows.  The light always seems to double the amount of energy I have left after work and running errands.  That's when I love my house the most.  Sunny afternoons.  (Especially when the house is clean and doesn't present an undending list...of laundry, dishes, cleaning etc....)

Today at 3:30, I was feeling extra content and happy, waiting for Maya to arrive home on the bus.  Sophie and I had filled our mid-day with productive and fun adventures, and we were about to go on our next adventure with Maya... riding our bikes to Maya's violin lesson together. AND to add to our Monday bliss, we were expecting a quick visit from my Aunt and Uncle later in the evening too.

But.... I still wasn't quite sure what our dinner would be.  Too often (since moving this summer...and then since school began,...this late afternoon dillema leads me to the freezer for an easy made-ahead meal...or to the phone to order pizza... or to make sandwiches or breakfast for dinner.)  Don't judge me.  Meal planning is not a skill I've mastered yet (but believe me, I've come a long way!).

But happily, today, I spotted the butternut squash sitting on my counter, looked up a few recipes for inspiration, checked the freezer and the pantry and found the motivation to make up my own dish of coconut curry chicken with squash.  (I make no claim of Indian authenticity, or culinary 'correctness'....since I made it up:) But at the first bite, I decided it was my favorite food....possibly the best meal I've ever made.  
It was one of those make-it-up-as-you-go-along meals that could go either way....  So I usually wait until after dinner to decide if it will go into the archives or not.  I was pretty confident about this one though, once the house started smelling like roasting garlic and curry.  
Ryan loved it too, though I'm not sure he would quite agree with my exaggerated claims above ALL other food I've prepared....or eaten, EVER. But it was good and it made the 'better-write-that-one-down' cut. So....

Curried Coconut Chicken with Butternut Squash

1/2 (or a whole) of a butternut squash (peeled and cut into cubes)
2 cloves garlic (minced)
16 oz. chicken broth
3--?? (depending on the desired number of servings) boneless chicken thighs
1 can of coconut milk
curry powder
garlic powder
brown sugar

Peel and slice squash (into small cubes)
Sautee minced garlic in butter briefly.
Add squash cubes and chicken broth to the garlic and butter.
Reduce heat, cover and simmer.

Season chicken thighs with curry, ginger, paprika, garlic powder, pepper, and salt and brown in butter or olive oil in a seperate pan.  
Add browned chicken to squash, and continue to simmer for 15 minutes (or until squash is soft and chicken is thoroughly cooked)
Add coconut milk and (about 2 tblsp.) brown sugar and gently stir.
Serve over basmati rice. 

Creamy and buttery and warm and slightly sweet and delicious.  I'm sure there are many other ingredients I could (or should) add or change next time....  I just used what I had in the house today.  And I don't want to forget the happy accident that happened this time.  

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Pie for dinner

(That's not my image...but it's about right)

Butternut squash.... sliced, sauteed with butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg...baked on top of a flaky buttery pie crust.   

At the end of a day like this one, I could write a lot about the weight of all the sadness in the world, all the things that are endlessly breaking, all the darkness that seems to never go away but continually gets bigger and scarier.  

But there were just way too many beautiful things today that deserve mentioning (far more than all the ugliness)...Buttery pie crust was just one of the many delights I could celebrate...  waking in the morning with nothing scheduled for the day,  conversations with people I love, a surprise afternoon visit from my parents and grandparents, a cool morning run, breakfast at our little local tavern on the water, feeding the ducks, yoga on a dock, folding clothes by the fire, my girls reading together in the corner for over an hour, Maya's violin playing, baking, cousins laughing together, pumpkin carving, dinner around a packed table, siblings, a few fun and loving text messages from friends and family, and a late-night pumpkin spice latte delivery from my husband. 

And after all that, it was that perfect Autumn pastry that was my real inspiration to blog tonight.  Butter is good like that.  

Monday, October 22, 2012

Paris Journal: Day Four

Ten days in Paris might last forever on this blog.   I'm stretching out the memory, because it's one of my favorite stories to tell.  I'll just keep savoring it one day at a time...recording every sweet detail.  

Are you sure you're ready for this?  It's a long day in Paris.


Early in the morning on our fourth day in Paris, I wrote a list of my (ideal) hopes for the day.  And though I dreamed big, I also had a pretty realistic perspective about my dreams.   Having all my wildest expectations already far exceeded merely by BEING in this city, I tried to reserve few expectations about what each day must include.  I was happy to just wander around, hearing people speak french.  But I did come prepared with a LONG list of 'dreams.'  Knowing that I might not ever get to return, I wanted to make the most out of each waking moment, so I had lots and lots of ideas.  My travel journal list of (unrealistic) 'hopes' for our fourth day included:
  • wander Montmarte
  • see the famous city view from le Sacre Couer
  • taste macaroons from one of the great Parisian makers
  • find Les Deux Magots and have cafe (where Hemingway liked it)
  • buy bread and fromage at a market and get photos of fruits and vegetables and flowers in the market
  • get postcards and stamps and send them to a few people at home
  • see Notre Dame
  • wander le Jardin de Luxembourg
  • see Place de Vendome and Boucheron's jewelry
  • visite le Grand Magazin or Le Bon Marche shopping center
  • eat more Berthilon glace!!
Full of anticipation, we left our hotel to seek out our last adventures in the city.  After our first stop for croissants et cafe au laits, we ewre off on the metro to Notre Dame.  It was still early morning when we arrived at Notre Dame, and unbelieveably, there was no line!  (Every other time we had walked by the cathedral, there had been a ridiculously long line, just to get inside.)  We walked right in and wandered around the cathedral, taking photos and quietly taking in the details.  We were both awed.  And I couldn't help but pray, giving thanks for this experience, these blessings, this belle city and to pray a blessing for the people of this city...for their hearts to know the depth of the love of the Creator of this beauty.
We walked alongside the cathedral, through the gardens along the river admiring the flowering trees draped over the benches, branches heavy with pink blossoms.  Whenever I imagine that scene again, I can't help but hear "April in Paris..."

Across the bridge...

and into the Latin quarter's winding streets, 

we walked and walked, stopping to study our map every once in a while...  we eventually arrived just outside the Luxembourg Gardens (one of my priority destinations for the day).  Before entering the tall iron gates, we explored the area, purchased some post cards and asked for directions to a market.
We returned to the garden and entered through the gate.  The shady garden was as peaceful and quiet and beautiful as I imagined.  At first, we were surrounded by trees, all perfectly spaced apart.

Then, the shady area opened up, and the great fountain appeared in a large round pond surrounded by people and Paris-green chairs.  I imagined that this was the place where, in the summer, children put sailboats in the water (as in the book, This is Paris).  We sat for a while and talked about our plans for the day and walked around the palace before leaving the garden. On our way, we accidentally found the Medici fountain.  It was a startling discovery, incredibly old and grand.

A starbucks along the way provided the necessary (American sized) dose of caffeine for Ryan (and a little WIFI time).  Then we walked along Boulevard Saint-Germain  to a market.

There, we found a fromagerie,  a boulangerie, poissonerie all in a row.  We bought one long baguette, some soft cheese and a piece of roasted chicken wrapped in foil.  We walked back down the boulevard (toward St. Michel) with our treasures and ate our picnic in the shady garden next o St. Michel cathedral.  Some overly friendly birds seemed ready to steal our lunch, so we guarded our crumbs as we ate, watching the people walking and lunching in the garden.
After lunch, we walked some more, down the bouleveard, purchased some timbres for the post cards and found a beautiful patisserie full of beautiful easter eggs and chocolate creations and macaroons.

We bought a pretty little box of assorted macaroons (7 flavors) and walked until we found Les Deux Magots and Cafe Flore and LE Brasserie Lippe.  Too full to eat anything more, we consumed only the view, a few photos, and the thrilling feeling of being right where Hemingway once was, outside the cafes he made famous.

Feeling accomplished and full, we took the metro back to our hotel for a brief stop before heading up to Montmarte.

Montmarte:  As we walked up the crowded cobblestone streets, Ryan commented, "I thought we'd already seen the 'dirty part' of Paris today."  It was funny and true.  These noisy, crowded streets were filthy with rubbish and puddles and filled with vendors selling cheap souveneirs.  We moved with the crowd up and up the narrow cobblestone streets avoidng the shouting vendors.  The steps leading up to the Sacre Cour seemed to go on forever.  But my excitement made me briefly unaware of my sore feet and legs. 
The view from the top was worth was priceless.

We could see so far that it was difficult to identify the familiar (but very distant) shapes..of Notre Dame, Musee D'Orsay.  But off the beaten path, a little way over to the right of the "grand" view, Ryan spotted the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, hidden behind some trees.

A little further down the street, I found my long narrow Parisian staircases with the romantic lamp posts.  One more dream come true!
 If only it had been dark, and the lights were lit...

It started to rain, as we stopped into a perfume shop to buy Nana some Parisian 'eau de toilette'. Next, we hunted down the famous Moulin Rouge.

One quick photo of the Moulin Rouge exterior was enough for us...before we ducked down into the metro station.

As we climbed the steps, emerging from the next metro stop, the Arc de Triumph towered over us.  From this landmark, we began what may have been our longest Parisian walk.  We started strolling down Haussman, walking all the way to the Madeleine, where we finally took out our macaroons from Larnicol and ate them on the steps as it started to rain again.

We had an umbrella, though the rain was so light and sporadic we hardly needed it.  We discovered endless beautiful store fronts through winding streets....eventually finding la Place Vendome, the site of some of the most elegant, historically important, and expensive residences, hotels, and retailers in Paris, including Frederic Chopin, Coco Chanel, the Ritz, and Boucheron's jewelry.  Boucheron's was an important Paris stop in order to prepare us for our stay at le Manoir de Beaumarchais (the Boucheron family's country home).  Tired, happy, sore, and a little drenched, we window shopped until we eventually found our way back to more familiar territory, near the Louvre, the Tuilleries, and the Seine.

For our last night in Paris, we returned to our cafe from day one, the Pont Neuf Cafe for dinner, cafe, and free Wifi.  We chatted with the girls for a very long time, sometimes just looking at one another.  They ran out of things to say and ask, but they didn't want us to go just yet.  We were all so grateful for the ipad and 'facetime' to ease the pain of distance.
After dinner, we crossed the bridge again to Ile de la Cite and returned to our favorite corner vendor (for Berthilon glace).  This time, I tried carmel glace (not my best choice) and Ryan (who is ever lucky...or wise... in his ordering) got a banane et nutella crepe.  This crepe....  made all other crepes seem pointless.  When I tasted it, I suddenly wondered how I could possibly fly back over the ocean, SO far away from those crepes.  So he shared...but not enough.

In front of Notre Dame, a corwd was gathered around a large screen, streaming a live mid-week mass for Holy Week. We listened for a while, but it was too difficult to continue trying (mostly failing) to translate or understand.  We bought a few souveneirs on the way back to our hotel.

Looking at the map later, we could hardly believe how far we walked that day! And I was shocked that we had pretty well covered my entire list.  By some beautiful miracle, the day just seemed to go on and on, always allowing for one more adventure.   A little pensive and dreamy with intoxication with Paris and its endless beauty, I thought about leaving the city the next morning.  I couldn't really grieve though, because of my excitement for our next destination, Beaumarchais.

Since that moment, that last night in Paris, I've become more and more sure that we planned our trip about as perfectly as possible, to have spent five days soaking in the museums, and people, and restaurants, and gardens, and history, and excitement of the city...followed by five peaceful days in a quiet country estate, roaming the villages of France.  That night, I remember laughing with Ryan that I liked to imagine ourselves to be old Parisians, long familiar with the city, escaping in the morning to a lovely holiday in the country.  It's pretty easy to dream...when you are in PARIS!!  In fact, it's hard to differentiate dreams from reality at times.  When everything around me was so often beyond all of my most beautiful dreams, I could hardly believe that I was awake.

In the 'silliest' of all my Paris dreams, when I tried to imagine being really a part of it all, I stretched the dreams the most.  I realized that night, that deep down, as I walked the streets and rode the metro and ordered my meals, I longed to just blend in a bit not look and sound so sorely out of place.  In my travel journal I wrote... (and toward the end, my writing got bigger and sloppier as I fell asleep)

"It's rather a lonely feeling, to be misplaced, to be enamoured with a beautiful culture, yet to know that I'll never actually be a part of it.  But to be here, to see it all, is enough, I think.  I have far more at home to love and to fact, I don't even think I will be sad when it is time to leave.  I hope I will return someday.  I really hope so....But when Tuesday comes, even though the first few days back will be tiring and shocking and exhausting to go back to work and reality, I will be so glad to be home, to be a Mother again, to hold my girls and laugh with them, to tuck them in at night and kiss them.  I am so full of belssings and hope and gratitude.  Bon nuit."