Wishing you light, joy, and a healthy heaping of hope…

I’m sitting on a train to Berlin, listening to Christmas carols (all the oldies from my childhood), and sipping a “Lebkuchen” (aka. Gingerbread) latte. It’s my favorite time of the year filled with all my favorite things – cue Julie Andrews – and all should be right with the world.

And yet…

This season of so much light, cheer, sugar, and spice has also been a reminder that all is not right in the world. Political, racial, and national divides paper my Facebook news feed. Bombs fall on Aleppo as young and old upload their final goodbyes to Youtube. And the news screens in the subway show images of a truck plowed into a Christmas market in Berlin. Homeless men and women huddle into sleeping bags under bridges and my migrant students’ phones and ID-cards are stolen from the locker room during gym class – their connection to the homes they’ve left behind and their new identities and claims to a new life in a new home.

In a time when we are singing about joy and peace, we desperately wish for the world to be well, to be whole. But the reality is staring us in the face – just behind the veil of crowded shopping malls, twinkling lights, and honeyed hams – the world is sick and broken.

So what do we do? Do we cancel Christmas? Unplug the lights, drag the tree to the curb, throw some mothballs on the Christmas sweaters, and unstuff the stockings?

As someone who spends the entire year looking forward to the holiday season and all its traditions, I don’t think that’s the answer.

But I do think we need to reorient our season on hope – not just finding it for ourselves, but embodying it for others.

The past few Decembers (and the other eleven months when I think no one is listening), I’ve become enamored by a particular Christmas song.

O come, o come Emanuel

And ransom captive Israel

Who morns in lonely exile here

Until the son of God appears

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emanuel

Shall come to thee, o Israel.

With it’s soft, minor harmonies, this song gets me right in the feels every time. It’s a song of solitude and yearning – a song of wandering in the darkness and looking for a light.

One of my neighbors down the street started putting a lantern with a large pillar candle out on their stoop a few weeks back. It reminds me of the ancient traditions throughout northern Europe of creating light as the nights got longer. It’s a little flickering reminder of the spirit of the yule log – light and warmth burning through the longest night. As a Christian, it reminds me of the light of a little child born in Bethlehem – a light in the darkness, a hope for healing, a savior for the lost. Life breathed into God-made-man, God-with-us – Emanuel.

And such is the challenge for all of us – not only during the holidays, but throughout the year. What are we doing to bring light and hope to the lives of others – our loved ones, friends, neighbors, and even our enemies?

As we sit with our families this Christmas, as we bask in the lights of our Christmas trees, and as we test the human limits of Christmas cookie consumption, think about those who are hurting in the world. Think of those who are alone, those who need someone to reach out to them. And then, reach out. Donate, visit, pray, write, call, embrace. Be aware – even if it’s painful – of those who need the warmth, light, and hope of this season, and explore how to embody that hope.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a hopeful year ahead.

Is it Christmas yet?

Imagine for a moment that you’re driving home for the holidays. You’re stuck in traffic, gifts are piled in the trunk, and the radio fills the car with old-timey carols and ads for deals at Best Buy. And then a voice breaks through the idling engines and jingling bells: “Are we there yet?”

And in similar fashion began the advent wreath right here in Hamburg, Germany.

The year was 1839 and Johann Hinrich Wichern was pastor of the Rauhes Haus mission school. Every day the children would ask him if it Christmas yet, and Wichern (like generations of parents have aspired to do before and after) devised a clever way to end the nagging. He fashioned the first ever advent “wreath” out of an old cartwheel by turning it on its side and affixing 24 small red candles and four large white candles. Each day of the week, a small red candle would be lit – except on Sunday, when a white candle was set ablaze.

A large wreath hangs in St. Michael’s Church, Hamburg

Red and white candles harken back to the original Wichern’s original wreath.

A large wreath outside city hall.

Eventually, evergreen boughs were added and the candles were reduced to only four, for the household sized wreaths we know today.

Whether simple or ornate, many candles or few, the advent wreath is a fun and meaningful way to count-down to Christmas.

We all have unique holiday traditions, but there are also many that we share. The tradition of the advent wreath can be found in many countries in homes, churches, and even public spaces. It is something that teaches us to bring light into darkness, to look forward to the future, and to connect with those near and far. And to learn that it all started right here in Hamburg was a real Christmas treat!

A Holiday Interlude

It’s my favorite time of year, and I can resist the blog-itch no longer!

But before we dive deep into the vortex of candles, spiced wine, gingerbread, and all the carols our little lungs can sing, an interlude…

Some of you may have been wondering where I’ve been these past few months. To answer that question, we need to go back almost exactly half a year.

Paradise.

After concluding my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Indonesia (and a short stop in the paradise of Raja Ampat, Papua), I hopped over to Australia. Ever the adventurous woman, my mom met me in Sydney. We took in the vibrant metropolises of Sydney and Melbourne, brushed up on Australian history in Adelaide, toured the vineyards of the Barossa Valley, rode the rails into the rainforest, ate wattleseeds, ooh-ed and aww-ed over tiny penguins (and kangaroos and koalas), shivered in the mountains, saw whales from the top of a lighthouse, discovered glow worms (and millions of stars) in the forest by night, and dove the Great Barrier Reef. Just to name a few highlights.

Our hearts were warm, but our teeth were chattering.

It was a trip of a life time, and a truly extraordinary experience to share as mother and daughter.

But it certainly wasn’t the end of the summer’s adventures!

After two weeks back in Gainesville, my parents and I joined my aunt, uncle, cousin, and cousin’s wife in Alaska. ALASKA. Talk about dreams coming true.

Moose Family!

I grew up tracking the Iditarod every year, and becoming a dog musher was my childhood aspiration. Anchorage, Denali, and Juneau delivered on sled dogs, glaciers, moose, bears, caribou, foxes, beaver dams, and some darn delicious king crab. We traveled by plane, car, boat, and then train, arriving in Whitehorse, Canada.

Another trip of a life time, and another irreplaceable memory of time with family.

The family that travels together…

Then I was in Spokane for a few days with more cousins, back to Florida for three days, and finally we set out on the last installation of the marathon summer: driving up the east coast to our old stomping grounds in New York and back. Along the way we visited friends and family, which (after more than two years) was some honest-to-goodness chicken soup for the soul.

Good times with good friends – we’ve come a long way from middle school!

All this to say that I am now in Germany – surprise! I arrived in mid-September, and have been working as an English Teaching Assistant via the Fulbright Commission. That’s a fancy way to say that I help English teachers out in their classrooms in exchange for paid living expenses and a great excuse to spend a year in Germany.

Now that you’re all up to date on the happenings of the past six months, we can move on to the important stuff: German Christmas.

But before sending a post your way that is full of holiday cheer and all things beautiful, let me address one more question.

Why?

Why travel? Why spend more than two years in Indonesia only to pop over to Germany? Why so many trips in one summer?

First, I need to point out that I understand my ability to travel is a great privilege. I have benefited from the taxes that many of you pay in order to live and volunteer abroad. I have also received help from my family and friends along the way. These are both gifts for which I am immensely grateful, and I hope that the work I have done and will continue to do to encourage better education and international cooperation will act as my gift in return.

In the end, it’s quite simple. I travel because it connects me to people and the world we all share. At the risk of getting a little cliché, I believe that peace with one another, peace with our world, and peace within ourselves starts with stepping out our doors, meeting our neighbors near and far, and respecting and delighting in the natural world.

Ok, I admit it…probably about 50% of my interest in travel is related to food. You caught me! (But seriously, there are international delights to discover right in your own community, like this Ethiopian food I tried in Spokane. Spoiler: it was amazing.

Understanding different perspectives, both human and ecological, help all of us live together with greater harmony and dignity.

These principles apply to all people and environments which lie outside our daily spheres. They can be located across the world, but also across the street.

In a time when many seem willing to withdraw from global conversations about poverty, war, and our environmental impacts, I hope that the spirit of travel will continue to work inside each one of us so that we may connect with the individuals, cultures, creatures, and ecosystems that all deserve a voice in shaping our world.

Alaska