2250 miles so far

I am currently on the road, traveling from the East Coast to the West Coast. Working along the way to pay my way, speaking at churches and small groups and meeting some great people. I have always wanted to make this trip and so far I have traveled 2250 miles west on my motorcycle (which is affectionately named Therapy).

It has been a very interesting 2250 miles so far and I still have quite a ways to go yet. The most fascinating thing is how big and beautiful this country is . . . especially the big part. The people are interesting. I am amazed at the creative people I am meeting and how they are reaching out to their communities. I have also met with key leaders from my current parent organization, including the president. I have also met tons of regular church folks who are seeking to live out their faith. And I have met lots of pagans who have no faith.

But the 44 hours that I have spent on the motorcycle thus far on this trip has been the most beneficial. These 44 hours are great thinking times and great working-it-out times. You can solve about half the world’s problem with 44 hours of thinking time. Now if only people would listen :-)

The best part of this process is the de-structuring that is forced upon you. It de-structures the life that schedule-obsessed North America obliges one to live. There is nothing to do but continue down the road . . . and that is refreshingly freeing.

In the girls room

There are times when a person can be too tired for doing things right. I am currently riding my motorcycle across the USA, speaking in churches, riding my motorcycle across the USA, meeting cool people, riding my motorcycle across the USA . . . you get the picture. Well this afternoon in Missouri of all places, I made a stop at a rest area on I-70. I needed to go.

Well I was going to the right and saw that the right side of the building was the girl's room. So I went to the left side of the building and went into the bathroom. Choose a stall and went inside. I noticed that this was one of the nicest State Restroom's I had ever been in. No cigarette damage, no graffiti, no missing parts to the doors . . . you know what I am talking about if you are a guy.

I started to get the idea that something was amiss, when someone came into the stall next to mine . . . someone with very dainty shoes on . . . and then again it happened . . . and it suddenly occurred to me that somehow, someway, I was in the ladies room!!

I carefully waited until I was reasonably sure that the place was empty and I made my escape!! Just glad I did not get arrested :-) I then discovered that the Women's room was on the entire front of the building, the men's on the back!!!

There has to be a lesson in this somewhere, be it escapes me. All I can say is that the girl's rooms are much nicer than the guys rooms.

I've Shrunk!!

No this is not sci-fi pseudo science. This is not an attempt to not be tall. This is also terrible for the BMI scores and all that jazz ... puts me back in the obese category (is anyone normal according to Mr. BMI??) Perhaps it is too many air-miles logged, and all that pressure inside airplanes at 35,000 feet. Perhaps it is too many bone-crunching accelerations in my lifetime, motorcycles, skis, snowboards, race cars, etc. Perhaps it is too much diving and the atmospheric pressures that come with that, I don’t know. But long story short, I have shrunk an inch and a half!

If only my waistline kept up with my height loss, things would feel better, but in America, they eat big time, and I am struggling with that side of things more than enough. Plus we eat so often in this country! Yikes . . . the pillsbury doughboy returns :-(

So I wonder if this means I will be one of those tiny little old people (when I get old I mean)? Naw, there is no chance of that happen. Short does not equal small, much less tiny. Maybe this is God’s judgment on me for calling my niece and executive assistant “shorty” for the last year? Actually I think this whole getting shorter thing is about the Dr.’s measurement tool, I couldn’t really be getting shorter, can I?

Compression

Compression is what I am experiencing right now. I find myself sitting in this hard chair, staring at this computer, attempting to figure out how to express four years worth of literal blood, sweat and tears . . . in 25 minutes. That is what most churches are giving me . . . to tell the tale.

To tell the tale of Ahmad, Sasho, Sime, Dragi, Mirche, Vanessa, Linda, Jagoda, Bilijana, Nada, Linche, Boyjan, Dan, Rodger, Tim, Jonathan, Leonie, Gerco, Ray, Michael, Leyla, Dragan, Sasha, Bledar, Angie, Olie, Simon, Alexsandra, Marko, Dejan, Memo, Rachel, Caroline, Sarah, Mite, Tony, Venco, Katarina, and on and on and on I can go . . . literally.

Don’t get me wrong, the 25 minutes is generous, especially since most folks have about 5 minutes capacity for such telling of tales. And I find this to be true even though I am generally considered to be an excellent teller of tales.

But this level of compression even Jesus could not do. So obviously this format of telling will not work a fair hearing. The stories are worthy of being told, of being heard, because they have the power to encourage, challenge, wow, hurt, build and change us all.

So should I write them all? Compose a poem for each one? Perhaps make a movie? A skit? The real problem is that most of us are only interested in histories and stories that are immediate to us. The wider work of God in the world bores most people that I meet. Perhaps I should get out more some of you are thinking. And that may be so, yet who among you are free/interested/open to/willing to/hot to/wanting to spend a few days talking about what is happening in the lives of people 5000 miles away? If you are, then you belong to a small and select group of folks.

I confess this compression moment depresses me, because I too am guilty of a reduced attention-span for the life stories of those not very near by me. Maybe instead of compression, I should be concerned about my lack of compassion and overpowering selfishness.

Childhood memories

There are few things more jumbled than childhood memories. Everyone has experienced going away from their parental home at some point, and then coming home to the feeling that everything had gotten smaller while gone. Its not that I have gotten larger (although that may be true too), but that our childhood worlds have grown small. Our childhood worlds are very small, inclusive, introverted, inwardly focused, not much beyond 5-7 relationships.

Adult world is much larger (and more frightening) and the scope is terrifying. Adult life is huge! But that is not the point nor subject of this particular post.

Childhood and youth memories are funny. As I have been riding about the roads and venues of my childhood these past days, the memories are all out of perspective. Those painful ones are not so hurtful anymore . . . and those wonderful ones seem to have lost their richness and pleasures. On the other hand, when I review those hurtful one and/or great ones, I can see the tapestry of who I am . . . and I then question who I have become, because of that perspective skew.

I think of what I may have become if I had made this choice, or that choice, or took that option, or travel that road instead of this highway? I think of those things I ran away from by going to Russia, and then wonder if I have lost too much by making that run? Or did I gain? Or did it matter? Did it really matter? Honestly?

There may not be an answer to my questions. Perhaps all any of us can do is enjoy today for what joys and pains that come our way. Perhaps 80% of life is attitude and not circumstances. Perhaps the best things are now, not the past nor the future. Perhaps we should just enjoy today, this moment, now. Childhood memories are too small for today.

Childhood memories

There are few things more jumbled than childhood memories. Everyone has experienced going away from their parental home at some point, and then coming home to the feeling that everything had gotten smaller while gone. Its not that I have gotten larger (although that may be true too), but that our childhood worlds have grown small. Our childhood worlds are very small, inclusive, introverted, inwardly focused, not much beyond 5-7 relationships.

Adult world is much larger (and more frightening) and the scope is terrifying. Adult life is huge! But that is not the point nor subject of this particular post.

Childhood and youth memories are funny. As I have been riding about the roads and venues of my childhood these past days, the memories are all out of perspective. Those painful ones are not so hurtful anymore . . . and those wonderful ones seem to have lost their richness and pleasures. On the other hand, when I review those hurtful one and/or great ones, I can see the tapestry of who I am . . . and I then question who I have become, because of that perspective skew.

I think of what I may have become if I had made this choice, or that choice, or took that option, or travel that road instead of this highway? I think of those things I ran away from by going to Russia, and then wonder if I have lost too much by making that run? Or did I gain? Or did it matter? Did it really matter? Honestly?

There may not be an answer to my questions. Perhaps all any of us can do is enjoy today for what joys and pains that come our way. Perhaps 80% of life is attitude and not circumstances. Perhaps the best things are now, not the past nor the future. Perhaps we should just enjoy today, this moment, now. Childhood memories are too small for today.

Swirling mists

It was kinda like being in a spooky sci-fi flick. My friend said that it was a sign from God. It was strange at the very least. On my very last bike ride up the mountain of this four year term, Vodno was capped by a heavy cloud cover . . . and I mean capped, as in the sky had a solid ceiling of gray clouds. Nothing peeking through that mass at all.

So as I was approaching the end of my ride up, about 75% of the way up the mountain, I actually entered the cloud cap. It was spooky to see ghost-like hunks of mist enveloping me and seemingly moving through me. I have flown in planes hundreds of times through the clouds. I have been in pea-soup thick fog that was bulletproof. I have climbed and skied in and above the clouds a number of times. But I have never been in such a swirling mist that seemed so . . . alive and living.

The weight of the air was so heavy that breathing was as solid as eating or drinking. It was like I needed gills rather lungs. It also was like I was in a room alone with God. God was in the swirling mists . . . and it was refreshing.

$7.33 gas and currency robberies

There is much to like and love about Western Europe. Gas prices aren’t one of them. This morning I filled up the rental car at a Shell station to the tune of $7.33 a gallon for the very cheapest unleaded gasoline. That sticker shock is bad enough but following our $61.32 splurge at the ice cream shop last night, the gas was anti-climatic. I could go on and on for pages about how expensive Europe is compared to North America, but I won’t. The bottom line of what these numbers mean above is the devaluation of the US dollar. You don’t want to know what attending my son’s graduation in Germany actually costs. Of course he was worth every euro :-) Yet it was an obscene amount of money in the end.

This blurb is being written at 34,000 feet in the air in a tin sardine-can commonly called an airplane. We are about half way across the Atlantic ocean and as Aderholdt traveling adventures go, this one has been terrifyingly amazingly flawless. Up at 5:30 this morning to shower and shave, final packing in the room, re-packing of the car, breakfast with Frau Shulberger, getting Jake, then picking up Helen, driving to Zurich, stopping at the Petrol station to top off that embarrassingly expensive gas, missing the rental car return - with Jake finally figuring out how to actually do it, getting all our car bags to the check-in, Jake and I then going to get the remaining bags that Brenda and I had left in storage when we came through Zurich on Wednesday evening, then checking in at United, paying the $193.00 for having one too many bags, breakfast at Burger King (Jake’s choice!) which cost an astounding $43 for burgers and fries and ketchup, meandering to our gate, going through security where Jake was flagged and searched because of the breathtaking number of electronic gadgets in his backpack, boarding the plane with me pushing in front as much as possible in order to find a relatively safe place for the guitar to make our trans-continental journey, to this moment where I am logging my thoughts onto my computer. Believe it or not, the plane is actually supposed to arrive an hour early in Washington! As I said . . . terrifyingly amazingly flawless.

Frankly it is a fitting end to a long and productive term. Four years of our lives poured out into the soils of Macedonia, Germany and the USA. Five Aderholdts working, stretching, changing, and getting it done. Heidi graduates with honors from High School and goes off to college, where she works two jobs, and continues to make the Dean’s list semester after semester. Jake has a great four years of high school where the boy became a man. Everyone looks up to Jake, and not just because he is 6 feet tall either. He is a voice of reason and wisdom everywhere he goes and he enables others along the way so that they shine. Helen traversed the pain of Middle School, two different dorms as well as a year with mom and dad, completing an amazing run at her first year of high school under the most challenging circumstances. Brenda has trained more women leaders in Macedonia than any other women in recent history. Churches will never be the same, women have evolved into powerful sisters dispensing God’s grace and mercy in their cities, and lives have been forever changed. Not to mention years of teaching English in multiple cities and settings and making a way for people to read God’s Word for the first time in their lives (and I could go on and on). David finished his doctorate, began teaching in regional seminaries immediately, and along the way planted the International Church of Skopje. And these are just the highlights of all that happened. There were disasters along the way too . . . I think I may save those for another day . . . today is for marking the progress we each made these long four years.

Interestingly enough, this day marks the first time in four years that the five of us will actually all be living together once again. We are all eager for that closeness again. Too, you would think that after a slam-dunk term of work behind us, that life would be stable and predictable. Nothing could possibly be further from the truth. We have never faced more ambiguity about our future than we do today. Perhaps in a couple of weeks I will be free to share more about that . . . perhaps not. The point of today’s blog is that life is amazingly expensive, in terms of what it costs and demands from us. If we knew the final tally ahead of time, few would willingly pay it I think. But I think the real question here is this, is it worth what it costs?

Six strings loose

After two flights, tons of waiting in airports, renting cars, storing luggage in Left Luggage departments, missing exits, finding the Gastehaus, getting our room, collapsing into bed and finally sleeping like the permanently dead, our day of travel to Germany came to an end. Compared to my usual travel horrors, this one was a charm (because I had lovely wife with me for sure) but still exhausting.

One of the main reason it was so exhausting is that I am lugging around my amazing guitar. Now guitars are not airplane friendly. Heck, they are not even travel friendly! Guitars want to be lovely held and cherished and be stroked and strummed into sweet oblivion. They are not kind nor thoughtful passengers while traveling. They are more like demanding fragile brats.

So this morning after a nice Germany breakfast, I returned to our room and as usual have the compulsion to reach for the guitar and hear a few measures of beautiful music. This morning no such thing happened of course because I had six loose strings. I loosened the strings prior to flying so that neither they nor the wood instrument itself undergoes undue stress.

So I tuned for a half hour or so, until all the strings were once again vibrating under the appropriate tension and the harmony produced was satisfying to the ear. Then Brenda and I sang together for a half hour. But tuning those strings back to proper tension got me to thinking . . . dangerous I know.

I said yesterday, we are at the place of new starts. New tasks, new place to live, new people to meet, new (different) cars to drive, new roads to explore . . . and perhaps new jobs, new futures, and new everythings. I am sure we will make mistakes and have to do it over and try again and again. There will be times when have to stop in the middle of what we are singing (doing) and adjust another string to find harmony once again. Getting it just right is sufficiently challenging to a person like me with an average ear for music, and that means lots of effort to compensate for my deficiencies. This coming year has many many parallels.

I have a feeling it is going to be much like tuning six loose strings . . . .

A New Start

New starts are hard. At my age and with my temperament new starts seem terribly threatening. But life with the living requires new starts. Even if you go kicking and screaming.

Today one of my very best friends encouraged me to start blogging again. And she said it in such a way that it made sense and gave me hope that more good than harm could come from it, so here we go . . ..

In an hour I will walk outside, get in my car for the last time, pick up my ever-social wife in the center, turn the car toward the airport, check-in my tons of luggage, and fly away from our third term overseas.

New starts are almost always tied to new endings. This end is one of those that cycle around every four years for us and is almost unbearably painful and difficult. How do you put into words the sum total of your relationships? The internet is far too small a medium to handle the immensity and weight of such significance.

Of course the new start has its ups as well. Re-unitied with all our children, son’s graduation from High School, living all together for the first time in five years, fishing in pristine waters with another best friend, motorcycles, some rest and restoration of my soul.

But today is about pain. The pain of separation, of not knowing if/when we will see one another again, who ever will be that honest and truthful with me in caring concern?, an end to the richest and most comfortable being that I have experienced in decades, not being judged for who I am, . . . good friends are in short supply and high demand, and are the richest currency of life.

Heaven simply may be the contentment of having all these friends in the same place and never having separations ever again. New starts and new endings are hard (I can think of several choice choice words in a number of languages more descriptive than hard, but I will let this one stand today).

You know, my friend was right as usual . . . I needed to start blogging again, and not allow the naysayers and whiners in this sometimes miserable world, win yet again.

Test First

Test First new MacJournal connection

111.6 miles per hour

Date: February 25, 2008 4:15 PM

Topic: 111.6 miles per hour

I love speed . . . you are just closer to God when you go fast.  Danger and death and pain and injury are all just a moment away at racing speeds.  This morning I was enjoying the scenery (however briefly) flying past me at 111.6 mph!  No I wasn't driving, I wasn't even sitting in the front seat.  I was merely a passenger in the back seat, riding in a car being driven by someone else.  

Although it is only 10:00 am, I have already have traveled at a wide wide range of speeds today.  First of all, my Field Director graciously got up at Zero Dark Thirty this morning and picked me up at my house at 5:00 am to take me to the airport.  He obviously had just rolled out the sack and was only partially awake, because we never got over 50 mph the entire way to the airport, even when we were on the highway.  Then the plane that took me up and over the problems in Serbia to Croatia was moving at about 400 mph.  And then the ride from this airport in Croatia to the seminary.

Believe it or not, I did not actually notice that we were going fast, until we got up over 100 mph.  I was reading and typing in the back seat, preparing for class lectures.  But once you start moving faster than 100 mph, you have those little floating feelings deep inside your lower abdomen, and that caused me to look up at the landscape flashing by me, and then I glanced over at the speedometer . . . 180 kph!  According to my calculator, that equals 111.6 mph.

I have probably driven this fast myself more than a few times :-), but I rarely sit quietly in a car while someone else drives that speed.  Most people make me far too nervous, but my driver today did not.  He handle himself and the car with great skill and confidence.

Carolyn will be upset, but there is a spiritual principle that I want to make from this.  While we may very well enjoy the thrill of moving through life at 111.6 mph, there are many extra dangers that come from moving at such speeds.  I find the most dastardly one, to be exhaustion.  The focus and energy required to safely (ok, relative safety) navigate such speeds is exhausting.  When I start counting up how few days I take "off" and how many days I am "on" the numbers and imbalance is alarming!  The second is the intense "doing" rather than "being".  You are simply moving too fast to BE anything, racing from one assignment to the next, from one task to the next.

The result is a tired overachiever!  I am not sure God finds much pleasure in such followers.  He seemed to enjoy those who sat at His feet and hung out with Him far more than those who did something all the time.  Maybe it's time to slow down?

temp changes

Well when I left Asia last night it was 77 degrees warm (25 C) and this morning when I arrived in Budapest it was 29 degrees (-1.6 C). Burrrrrrrr! Of course it was especially biting since I decided to stay in short pants and short sleeves as it was unbearable last night to think about an 11 hour flight in jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Now I am reconsidering, but of course I have no access to my clothes since they are being held for the Skopje flight this afternoon. At least it is warm in the Airport, although the TP is terrible.

The best breakfast in the whole world

I have new favorite breakfast . . . it's the local noodle shop. The noodle soup is to die for . . . more taste per spoonful than anything I think I have ever eaten in my whole life. And being a terminally fat person, that is alot of eating.

When I transition later this week, I will really miss the food . . . but my waistline will be relieved that I am returning to a saner style of eating.

I wonder if I could open a noodle shop in the Hairy Armpit?

A Mountain of Flowers

My brother told me. I did not believe him. There simply does not exist a mountain of flowers. But there does and there is and I went there. Here is the story in pictures:

The 2000 curve road . . . with no brakes!

The amazingly beautiful and picturesque road to Mae Hong Son is known as the road with 2000 curves. It requires patience, skill and more than a bit of foolishness . . . especially when we cleared the first humongous mountain range and started down the other side and discovered that my brother had no rear brakes on his bike! And he was riding double! Needless to say this is a recipe for disaster.

So we stopped and I took the passenger, and allowed my brother to lead at a speed that felt and was, less lethal. We were about 17 kilometers from Pai and so our goal was to reach a motorcycle shop without dropping the bike, or going off the road into one of the ravines. I on the other hand, was struggling with a second rider . . . which greatly affected how my bike was handling and to be honest, my brakes aren't the greatest in the world either.

Long story short, we found a bike shop, he changed the brakes, and off we were again on our wild adventure on the 2000 curve road.

As the afternoon progressed, I could not help but think that my life is much like this 2000 curve road. It has shifted direction and focus and passion and means and methods and priorities and resources at least 2000 times. And admittedly, there are stages of this life where I seemed to be headed downhill into lethal curves with no brakes with which to stop or even control the pace at which I move.

I also was wondering if I kept good brakes on my life, would I have chosen the same paths that I have thus far, or would I have chosen a different road here and there had this life a more controlled pace? On the other hand, I am fairly certain that far less would have been accomplished in my life to-date, had I stopped and thought about it too much.

Every curve is different. Each one has risks and thrills. Each one is potentially lethal. Each one can take you to a breathtakingly beautiful vista.

Fireworks on the 21st floor

Last night was a magical night. As we headed for the rooftop of the Pornping Hotel the excitement was energizing. On the rooftop . . . literally the 21st floor of the hotel . . . we enjoyed a reservation-only atmosphere and fabulous meal they prepared for us right there on our table. The chicken, fish and pork kabobs were only the beginning of a meal fit for a king.

The fireworks are going off all over the city, which of course we had a front row seat being on the roof of the tallest building in the city, and there were an endless stream of fire balloons lighting the sky for hours. On the other hand . . .

It can be very interesting to be at the same height and level as the fireworks explode all around you. It is one thing to watch fireworks from the York fairgrounds and quite another thing to experience the fireworks 21 stories high in the breezy Asian night.

It was a great memory to make with my brother and Asian friends. One of the sad and unfortunate things that occurred, is that some of the Westerners got upset about the fireworks being so close (and granted sometimes they were close), but if that is your attitude, why don't you just stay home?

If only the rats would eat the cockroaches

There are several stereotypes of Asia that I have heard from friends who have lived in this part of the world . . . that seem to be perfectly true. Asian bathrooms can be interesting places, but nothing tops the rats and the cockroaches . . . both which seem bound and determined to chase me whenever I am in the same room as they are. It is disturbing to have rats and coackroaches be so aggressive toward me. Generally people find I have a gentle and lovable soul . . . perhaps these carnivores don't have socializing on their small minds?

As I was returning from the computer mega-store here today and I came into the kitchen area to take the stairs to my room, there was a ginormous cockroach guarding the door. It was huffing and puffing and it was not about to allow me passage to the stairwell. I was afraid to move at first (who knows what a startled cockroach the size of a small horse might do??), but then I decided to make a break for it. I faked going right, then double-pumped an imaginary piece of bread to temp it with, and then jumped left.

Whew! I made it to the stairs, but did not linger, in case it wanted revenge . . . and as I thought about this close encounter on the way to the third floor, I thought, wouldn't it be nice if the rats (in the same kitchen – roughly the size of the local elephants) would eat the cockroaches! At least one fright would then be gone.

Looking the wrong way

Looking the wrong way.

Looking the wrong way while crossing the street can be deadly. You know you are in a foreign country that you are not accustom to when you are constantly looking the wrong way while trying to cross the street. Here in this part of Asia you drive on the LEFT side of the road, not the RIGHT side of the road. And while this sounds simple enough to adjust to . . . having looked the wrong way several thousand times over the last 7 days, has convinced me that I will need some time before looking this other way will feel correct.

I need to successfully make this mental shift, or it's going to get me killed, maimed, hurt, damaged, and hell . . . it has already scared the life out of me about a half dozen times!

As I sit here thinking this afternoon, I have come to realize that I need to look at life in a different way as well. I need to see reality in an alternate manner than I currently do . . . I am locked into a bad pattern and I have been doing this particular way so long that, I cannot seem to make the leap to a new dimension.

It is dangerous to be in such a rut, it can maim your heart, damage your soul, crush your spirit, and make you a slave to fear. Being startled over and over emotionally takes a heavy toll after a bit. If you don't make the jump to the new reality, then you can only stay stuck in the same old way that you have perceived reality all the years before. Then all the things I listed above are your future.

So a fresh perspective is the order of the decade. You have got to stop looking the wrong way.

Sumo Mania

The World Championship of Sumo Wrestling just occurred here this past weekend. Sumo Wrestling is to the uninitiated, just a bunch of overweight bullies pushing one another around . . . and granted there is a measure of that going on. But when you see the explosive power of these two giants coming out of their stance and colliding . . . you wonder that the building does not shake and fall!

I included this video of one of the mighty falling . . . literally!

There were competitors from Germany, Poland, The Netherlands, Russia, Japan, Thailand, USA, Ukraine, Mongolia, Malaysia, Hungary, Hong Kong, China, Brazil, and others.

Perhaps I have a new career in the making?