Another six weeks on and I’m posting again … just when I start to get pretty regular with these posts my time in Belfast is wrapping up. Zussamen-fassen (quite probably misspelled) is a word I learned a couple years ago. It refers to the concept of bringing together all the loose ends, especially at the end of a meeting or a talk so that a coherent and common understanding emerges. This ending time here in Belfast is an exercise is just that, trying to finish off my various responsibilities well, see and thank the many people I want to, trying to consolidate the various gains the Lord has wrought in me personally, and preparing some for the next stage of life as I return to Ann Arbor. I’ve plenty weaving left to go, but it’s very evident to me that there is a rich tapestry of experience, relationship, challenge, and growth from the last eight months I’ve had here in Northern Ireland.

My last update came just after St. Patrick’s Day mid-Lent. That ushered in four days of snow, sleet, and some hail for good measure. It was all just in time for a week long visit by two of Noel’s mates from Miami. Late in the week the weather turned and we had a beautiful sunny and warm spring day for a Charis men’s day. This was a great day to be with most of the men, Secondary School aged on up, of Charis community. Some inspiring talks, and good prayer, mixed in with some good craic in the afternoon. Softball (not typical here) was the sport of choice in the afternoon, although I did get a sizeable minority playing some Frisbee Golf (even less typical).

Most of the next week was madly taken up with preparations for our TEC weekend. As I mentioned before the TEC format is highly developed and takes an awful lot of work to pull off. At times that week I must admit to having a bit of a bad attitude. The amount of sucking details (rest assured my language at the time was stronger) was daunting. It wasn’t clear how many were even going to be able to come, and I was well prepared for the whole thing to be a fiasco and a giant waste. In some perverse way I was even looking forward to that eventuality because then all of my crappy attitude would be justified (not good, I know, I repent).

On Friday morning, with leaving at 2pm for the retreat, I had a delightful break from normal retreat preparations. I hopped a bus to the airport and camped out in front of the international arrivals door, eventually to be rewarded by the first sight of my parents in seven months. We picked up the rental car, the roomier model (although not by big car loving American standards). The other wrinkle was the manual transmission. I was meant to reserve an automatic. I know I checked on their availability when enquiring about the price, but might have neglected that when actually reserving, the memory is foggy. Anyhow, Bob Laba being the adaptable and talented man that he is, quickly revived the decades long dormant stick shifting skills, and with a completely different hand to boot. We stopped by my house and saw some of the brothers, grabbed some breakfast, and then got them settled at Noel and Diane Dick’s house in the community cluster (a number of Charis families living in the same neighborhood). They met Noel that evening, but then had the place for themselves as the whole family was away in the States the oldest son Mathew’s wedding. Mom and Dad headed down south to tour a bit and spend the night in a castle as an early birthday present for Mom and I headed up north for a weekend at lovely Kilmore house.

Since my last visit there had been some facility issues, and a good portion of the girls’ side was missing great roof chunks. Thankfully the remarkable sunny and warm weather held through the whole weekend. The weekend itself was quite successful. We had a good crowd of first time participants, and the feedback overall was raving (in a positive rather than deranged sense). It’s an intense format, and nearly all seemed to receive abundant blessing though the time. Normally a TEC weekend is from a particular denominational perspective. This one was the second in trying an ecumenical format. We had a Catholic Mass Saturday night and an Anglican Communion Service Sunday morning, and participants were from Catholic, Anglican, Presbyterian, and Free Church backgrounds. Everyone there was grateful for the opportunity to advance against some of the exaggerated divisions that plague the churches in Northern Ireland.

The next week was Holy Week. Charis celebrates Holy Week in a rich way I’ve never seen before. Each night of Holy Week there were community night prayers in different locations. Most of the community crammed into whichever house or church we were at every night that week. My parents were back in Belfast by Tuesday and joined for most of these prayer times. This provided the chance for me to share the community life I’m living from the inside with my parents in a fuller way then I’ve ever been able to before and I’m truly thankful for that. On Thursday my sisters Beth and Kim arrived in Dublin so Mom, Dad, and I drove down to pick them up. On the way back we did a bit of touring at a Neolithic passage tomb (Newgrange), monastery ruins (Mellifont), and some huge carved stone crosses (Monstaboice). We arrived in Belfast in time for some afternoon ice-water with the brothers (meant to be tea, again that unusual full on sun had made its presence known and changed plans). Since I had dinners at the house during Holy Week my parents and, then parents and sisters, were generously hosted at different families for dinners. Holy Saturday the whole clan joined my house and five other guests for our Seder meal (seventeen total around the extra long table). Again this was a wonderful chance for me to share one of our yearly celebrations I really treasure with my family. On Sunday we had a house Easter celebration. I stuck around for the prayer time, plenteous hors d’oeuvres, and one of Martin’s finest soups for a first course. I left before while the steaks were on the grill to join the family at the Gilroy’s for a sumptuous Easter dinner (and if I hadn’t managed to escape that next course I likely would have exploded). After dinner we went back across the driveway to Noel and Diane’s and called Amy and John who were visiting John’s family for Easter.

On Monday the five of us set off for some Laba holiday action in Ireland. We lacked only Amy and John to make the sibling pentavorate complete, but their presence was distinctly felt. That first day we took a driving tour of the Glens of Antrim, stopping for lunch and a stroll in Glenariff’s forest park (GLEN-arf, the Queen of the Glens). Continuing along the coastal drive we stopped at Carrik-a-rede and Whitepark Bay, and found a bed and breakfast not far from the Giant’s Causeway. Carrick-a-rede is a forty foot long rope bridge eight feet high connecting the mainland to a rocky island. Originally it was used to fish the salmon which were forced into the small channel between island and mainland as they ran in the spring for spawning. Even thirty years ago there were a thousands salmon swimming by an hour at the height of the run. The fishery has collapsed, being gutted by big off shore trawlers. All fishing ended off the bridge ended about five years ago, with the run being measured in hundreds over the entire season now.

Day two, fortified by our hearty Ulster fry we set of bright and early for the causeway. Getting there bright and early we beat most of the crowd and had the sunniest portion of the day on the weird geometric basalt formations that make up the causeway. After that it was into Bushmills for a tour of the whiskey distillery (the oldest licensed whiskey distillery in the world). At the end of the tour it happened that it was four Laba’s that were selected to be taste testers, sampling six whiskeys instead of the typical one that comes with the tour, Sláinte (Irish for cheers). Next it was through Stroke City (Derry/Londonderry) and into Donegal and the republic. We found another B and B, walked around a Franciscan Friary, and sat in on a local Celi (dancing). On day three we visited Glenveagh National Park, toured the castle and gardens, and learned a bit about the glenveagh clearances, when a former occupant of the castle drove hundreds of families out of their houses in the middle of the winter when he found out he could make more off the land by grazing sheep then having tenant farmers, nasty stuff that.

On Thursday my parents headed back to the States, and I drove down to Dublin with Kim and Beth. We did some touring that afternoon in the city centre and even made it to evensong at St. Patrick’s cathedral. Some Nazareth (the community in Dublin) folks hosted us that night – I stayed at Cormac’s place and Sorcha (pronounced Sirca) arranged for my sisters to stay at her parent’s house. The community was already hosting a load of other folks for a teaching week, so I was really blessed by the ready hospitality. Thursday night we went out with a crew of the younger crowd. Because of the teaching week it included people living in Dublin, Belfast, London, and of course, the States. Tadgh took us up to one of his favorite spots, a mountain overlooking all of Dublin lit up below. The next morning I dropped Kim and Beth off at the airport and headed back to Belfast.

After putting together several hours of solid work over the weekend it was off to Donegal for some holiday time with the brothers (it’s a hard life trying to celebrate Easter well). For the third week or fourth week in a row the weather was predominately sunny, virtually unheard of in this part of the world. We climbed Mt. Eragol, ate good food, watched some films, and golfed. Doug Smith took around Noel, Georges, and I to first a par three and then a proper golf course. Doug was the only one in the group that had ever golfed before; I had never actually swung a club outside of putt-putt. My impression of the sport overall – incredibly frustrating, costly, but also quite fun, and notably addicting (given my disposable income I think I’ll need to focus on the first two I think). I had one beautiful drive the last hole on the proper course. As is expected I messed up my next several shots, losing any advantage I had. We stayed in a couple caravans owned by some Charis families. Again the generosity of the Charis folks was a tremendous blessing. The holiday was grand but the last day included a series of mishaps, including breaking the kitchen faucet, losing the car keys (with the spare set locked inside of it), and nearly having the car top carrier burst open when a couple latches broke. This last one was 9:30pm on a rainy Donegal Saturday night, not an opportune time to try and locate bungee chords, but luckily a local resident observed our plight and gave us some rope that allowed us to make it home intact.

Sunday I went to dinner with Doug at Joel’s family. Joel is a Queens student who has gotten involved with TEC this year and came along on the weekend. After dinner I went along with Joel and watched a Gaelic football match. The game is really different from anything else I’ve observed, and I enjoyed trying to figure out what the heck was going on.

This past week I actually had to do some real work. One of the highlights was interviewing ten former gappers over the phone (gappers are folks doing a year of service in our communities). It was really inspiring to hear the many ways the Lord had worked in people’s lives through these service years set apart. Another beautiful sunny day yesterday, and I got my last opportunity to play some Ultimate Frisbee here in Belfast. There are lots of lasts coming up, and more and more as I say good by to people after this or that event it’s not until the next thing, but until God only knows when. Yesterday was also the Belfast reception for Mathew and Sheena Dick (the ones who got married in the States over Easter). It ended up that I was able to help serve the meal and clean up at the end of the night. The service was just like I would have known when I worked for a banquet hall in High School. At that point, even though I was being paid, it was generally just a pain to serve tables and clean up. Last night I was grateful for the opportunity. It was a small way to show thanks for the way in which the Dick’s have blessed me over this year, particularly by giving my parents their home for their two weeks here in Ireland.

Today the big event was the first (and last) book club event for me in Belfast. Mags Tierney, who visited Ann Arbor a couple years ago and joined the book club I was in, encouraged me to pull something together over here. I finally got around to it and we had nine folks around a beautiful meal today talking about The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. The book had been recommended to me by both Bruce Yocum (former presiding elder of the Servants of the Word and one of my bosses this year) and Sara (random Pakistani girl I met on the plane in September). Given these disparate sources I was intrigued. Most everyone really enjoyed the book and found it powerful and evocative. Thankfully Steven Dick (nephew of Noel and Diane) disagreed and stirred up some very good debate by expressing his thought that it was really a two dimensional stilted work and comparing it to an Afghani version of the OC.  Every good book discussion is helped when someone is  willing to be a bit provocative.
As I finish this post and sip a(nother) glass of wine I am impressed by what’s gone on in my life over the last eight months. The Lord has been very present and challenged me in many ways. I’ve loved the time here, and sincerely hope I get the chance to spend more time here. Eight months is a good time, but at this point it feels short. There’s much more I see I could have helped out with and contributed to here. Regardless, I know I will be able to continue to serve and experience God’s work in new ways as I return to dear friends and family in Michigan. Hard to believe it’s my penultimate Irish Sunday … time to go raid that leftover Brie from book club before going to bed.

Time continues to speed by; I’ve wanted to write a post several times but have had difficulty carving out the time. Of course the longer I wait the more there is to tell. Life here in the house has been very good; today we reach the middle Sunday of the forty days of Lent. Our observance of this season in the brotherhood is something I find both inspiring and challenging. As a house we make some changes to try and quiet life, reflect, take stock, and seek the Lord more earnestly. Through the season our weekday meals are simpler and meatless, we pull out some specific Lenten songs in our morning prayer rooms, observe silence in the house between night prayers and morning prayers, and have a set of special meditations we’ll discuss as a house each evening. Along with our common decisions I’m trying to approach my use of time, energy, and money in a more deliberately Christ centered way. It is rewarding, but as I have experienced in previous years, the sharpness in prayer and connection with God can grow a bit dull by the halfway mark. This year I had quite a bit of time in my schedule the first couple weeks to take stock, but currently things have again ramped up. Essentially all my various responsibilities have notched up a gear or three in the last week. My desk is serving as a reminder of this business by accumulating several new layers of responsibility detritus. Perhaps this is all the more reason to come back to the Lord with all my heart as this season reminds me to do.

As I looked at my planner today I was taken aback by the realization that I’ve only got fifty more nights this side of the Atlantic, May 8th I’ll fly back to Michigan. It is amazing how fast these past six and a half months have gone by, Belfast has grown very dear to my heart in that time. It’s a great place, full of surprises. For instance, I had essentially given up any hope of seeing snow this winter, there were a couple false alarms after Poland, but March 18th is the day. Not only the first snow, but the first thunder and lightning as well in my time here have come today. Already during the time I’ve been writing this post I’m on the third snow flurry which has alternated with blue skies and full sun. I’m hoping that the cold snap doesn’t affect the flowers in bloom all over town. I first noticed the daffodils I planted last October coming up exactly one month ago, and they’ve been blooming since.

Yesterday I was the cook for our house Lord’s Day celebration, as is fitting for the 17th the menu was full on Irish. I made some Colcannon (glorified mashed taters), Irish stew, Mom’s Irish soda bread (a taste that makes St Patrick’s Day in my opinion), an apple crumble for dessert, and of course it all had to be accompanied by a Guinness. Hearty, and tasty fare if I do say so myself.

Last Sunday I was up at 4:30am in order to get Steve Clark, who had been visiting our house for the previous week, to the airport in Dublin for an early flight. We made very good time (surprisingly the traffic was light at that time of day), so there was time to enjoy a cup of coffee and muffin with Steve in the airport café. Steve is the founder of the Servants of the Word brotherhood. Now in his mid sixties he still travels all over the world building the kingdom, and finding time to encourage young guys like me. Having a chance to spend those couple hours with Steve hearing about what he’s been doing, and sharing my reflections on this year was a real privilege. He also had some good tips on sites I might want to visit and observations on Irish history. The breadth of subjects Steve is well informed on is pretty astounding, on some walks we’ve had back in the states we might cover natural history, ecology, and tree identification (he’s sharper then I am), as well as background he knows on whatever author I’m currently reading, and solid advice on what’s going on with me.

Driving back I tuned into a Gaelic radio station, and was reminded of countless Sunday trips in the family van to grandma and grandpas listening to the Thistle and Shamrock on NPR. As the dawning sun brightened the Mourne Mountains I found myself thinking of home. I do miss Michigan, family and friends particularly, but there will be a definite loss when I leave this beautiful island in a short time. It’s surprised me how easy and natural it’s been to start putting down roots here. Somehow that exotic land across the ocean I used to listen to music from on Sunday afternoons has become home to me also. That’s an exciting, and somewhat fearsome aspect of this life I’m choosing in the brotherhood. Part of that decision is a willingness to go where I’m needed, where I’m sent. I know more fully now that I think I can do that, and make a home where I am sent, yet I don’t think it will ever be easy to “leave home”, and I might very well have to do that somewhat often in the years ahead.

The second weekend of Lent we had our brotherhood Lenten retreat. We went to a Benedictine monastery in Rostrevor (southern part of Northern Ireland in the Mourne Mountains). It’s a new establishment, less then ten years old, and the first Benedictine establishment in Ireland for hundreds of years. There are five monks there, the leader (not sure if he’s technically abbot or not) grew up in Northern Ireland and the other four are from France. I’ve stayed at a monastery in New York before but this was a much fuller experience of monastic life. The chanting of the different offices was seriously beautiful, and the liturgy definitely had a French flair. We took four of our meals with the monks in silence. Because we weren’t talking the meals went by very quickly, a bit of a shame because the food was masterfully prepared. I started feeling some calling to become a French Benedictine; although I doubt the reasoning “I really like your singing and cooking would get me too far there.” Trying to communicate without speech can lead to some humorous situations. At one point my encouraging smile and nod of head, meant to convey “that was a fine meal my good man, thank you indeed” was interpreted as “give me another dessert please, I’m a shameless American.” Not being able to gracefully decline I simply ate the extra pie (several of the brothers mentioned the incident to me afterwards, I think they were jealous).

The retreat itself was a really blessed time for me to hear the Lord. During the last few semesters of my degree I had several experiences of all the threads from my different classes illuminating the same themes. This experience of Forest Ecology, Restoration Ecology, and Environmental Psychology all synching up was always exciting, finally getting the big picture in view. I had some serious spiritual synchronicity going on over the retreat, and was much encouraged in the same way. I think there are an awful lot of connections that I miss in life, and I experienced the Lord opening my eyes to some of them during those days. I’m reading a couple books over Lent, Spiritual Combat Revisited and Red Moon Rising, we’ve got a set of scripture meditations for the forty days, I had more space for personal scripture reflection, there were several opportunities to join the monks in chanting Psalms and other prayer, and there was input from Fr. Mark (leader of the monastery) in a couple sessions. All or these seemingly disparate sources connected into a common message. I’ve rarely experienced such clarity from so many directions. Even the elements were in on the act. It was a complete surprise to me, but Saturday night featured a full lunar eclipse (result: eerie red moon). While reflecting some on all these strings coming together on Sunday in my room there was a brief rain storm during full sun, heading to the window I got to enjoy a full rainbow gloriously spanning the green valley the monastery is nestled in. Certainly this coincidence (or confirmation as I see it) would have been more remarkable if I were in Dubai rather then Ireland, but I really believe that rainbow was meant for me. I think the Irish might take their rainbows a bit for granted. I’ve seen more rainbows since coming here then in probably the six previous years in relatively rainy Michigan; I hope I don’t get too familiar to appreciate their beauty and promise.

The previous week I had the chance to give my year review with the brothers in cell group. This is something that the brothers will do every year, evaluating and reflecting on the previous year, what has the Lord done, what struggles and growth have been experienced – in prayer, relationships, and work and service. As I’ve just made my full commitment this was my first chance to do this. I spent a couple mornings taking stock and offering up all that’s happened over the last twelve very eventful months to the Lord. Reflecting on this, and then presenting it to the bros for their comments, input, advice, and prayers was a hugely encouraging exercise. There’s real wisdom in recollecting and giving thanks like this, and I’m grateful that the pattern of brotherhood life pressed me into doing it.

Going back to 9-11 of February there was a big European retreat we hosted in Belfast for different groups related to TEC throughout the UK and the continent. The Kairos weekend, as it was called, involved just over a hundred for the weekend. The theme for the weekend was the passage where Peter gets out of the boat and begins to walk to Jesus on the water. To really give the time justice I should have updated the blog a month ago. It was a good chance to observe how events like this work outside of the US. Overall it’s gratifying to see that the same work and conviction amongst university students exists here in Europe as I know back home. One truly inspiring aspect was seeing how the men and women worked together. Most of the talks were jointly given by a brother and a sister, and I had never seen the synergy and complimentarily of men and women expressed so fully during an event like this, something to learn from for sure.

Over the next few weeks there are two major things for me to prepare for. One is a TEC weekend hosted by out TEC group March 30-April 1. This is a bit confusing, but in short a ‘TEC weekend’ is a highly developed retreat format from which our TEC fellowship here grew out of. Now we’re going to be hosting one, and it takes a fair amount of work to put on. I’m excited for the time, if a little overwhelmed by all that needs to happen before then. Please keep the weekend in prayer, especially that those still deciding if it will work can come. The other, and highly anticipated event, is a visit from my parents and two of my sisters (Kim and Beth) for Easter. About the only thing that could get me more excited is if Amy and John could come as well, but with a wee one and one on the way that just won’t work. So dear reader, there you have it. A meandering, not quite exhaustive, but certainly exhausting summary of the last seven weeks, thanks for reading!

Full, life has been very very full of late. January, normally a busy month has (to grab a phrase from Space Balls) gone plaid. Somewhere two weeks ago or so I thought to myself “self” (or perhaps it was “Laba” I often speak to myself familiarly while inner monologue-ing) “if you don’t write an update for that blog of yours soon no one outside of your parents, and probably not even both of them, is going to be able to read though your entry.” You see I knew what had already happened, and that there was much more to come. Alas, there was room for no more then this fleeting thought, and a fortnight has flown by since. Now some of you might have thought while reading previous entries that I have a lot to say, perhaps too much even. Please feel no compulsion to read any further, or if you want to get a wee taste then I’ll give you a geographical synopsis here: Belfast to Norfolk England, to London, back to Belfast (briefly), to Bushmills (the north coast of Ireland is stunning), to Belfast (slight less briefly), to Poland, to Luton (overnight, not nearly brief enough), Ballantoi (north coast again), and finally settled back into Belfast. If you still intend to read on I recommend grabbing a wee cup (strike that, big cup) of tea or coffee and enjoy this longish grammatically suspect missive.

The year of aught six ended and that of aught seven began as I have come to expect years to begin and end over the last several years, while on retreat with the brothers. On the 27^th the whole house hopped onto an easyJet flight to London. Throughout our travel we worked through the final rounds of our picks for the FA cup (English football craziness, sort of like March madness, sort of). Surprisingly enough I currently find myself leading the house, having managed to pick a couple of big upsets, but that’s off topic. We arrived in London and were met at the airport by a hired mini bus driven by Jamie Treadwell. From there we made our way through the English countryside to All Hallows Anglican Convent just outside of Norwich (Anglican nuns are brilliant). With the London brothers and gappers we were fourteen for the week. The retreat’s focus was on the Seven Pillars of our Ideal, the foundational aspects of Servants of the Word Life. Each morning one pillar was presented as a focus for the day. It was good to meditate on these core aspects of the life I am choosing for. Most of each morning was spent in prayer, spiritual reading, and meditation. I also took some time most mornings to brush up on my Christmas Carol playing. This is the first year I’ve played guitar in our prayer rooms, so this was the first time I played Christmas Carols for any but my own forgiving ears. Twas very good experience for me, perhaps slightly less so for the brothers subjected to my playing. The afternoons included space to catch up with some of the other guys and play some football or basketball together. It was especially good going on some walks through the country side. The area is quite flat, and beautiful in a subdued sort of way, with ancient stone churches rising up in the middle of fields where hundreds of years ago a town must have been located. One evening was set aside for cell groups, so me and the young guys headed off to a local pub with a cheery fire. After enjoying a pint of the local bitter and sharing about the retreat some we occupied the pool table. An intense, madly ricocheting (mostly to no positive effect) game ensued. When the local sharks showed up (lads with personal cues in monogrammed crushed velvet cases) we tried to hurry things along, and managed to sink the last three balls at the breakneck pace of fifteen minutes. Several nights after our night prayers I got together with Andy Pettman, my night sharing partner for the week. It was a great chance to know him better. He was well prepared, remembering to bring along binoculars for some star gazing on one particularly clear night walk.

On the back end of retreat I had the chance to stay for about a day at our brotherhood house in London. I was able to visit there once previously back in the summer of 03. Since I visited a classy addition was put in back, expanding the kitchen and creating a nice sitting room on the first (American second) floor. The younger guys went into town, but not fancying a long tube ride myself I took the opportunity to get a couple visits in. Our house in Acton (a London suburb) is situated in the midst of a cluster of families involved in Antioch, the community in London. Just a three minute stroll down the road sufficed to bring me to Andrew and Angie Bull’s place. I got to be friends with Angie when she was doing a Gap year of service in Ann Arbor back in 98-99. I’ve only seen her a couple times since then, so it was delightful to catch up with here and Andrew on several years of news while enjoying a cup of tea and the wonderful chance to meet for the first time their three year old daughter and nearly two year old son. After the Bulls I walked down to Bob Bell’s for a tasty dinner and a movie. Bob is truly one of the most encouraging persons I’ve ever met. He has been living single for the Lord for twenty to thirty year. Sharing a meal and some fellowship with Bob and seeing written on his face the joy he has in serving and loving others left my spirit buoyant.

After London I had a couple days back in Belfast to try and get on my feet for the new year. That process was slightly hampered by the demon that lives inside my computer. It had begun to act up around Christmas and started causing more trouble then. Nevertheless I did what I could, and then headed off to Bushmills (a town on the north coast, and home of the whiskey distillery). This was for a Q brain child, a joint retreat between our London and Belfast Gap program and a few other groups, the YWAM teams from Dublin and Belfast, and EQUIP. YWAM is Youth with a Mission. The group in Belfast is focusing on forgiveness and reconciliation. They’re working with school kids in Belfast and will split into two teams and do the same forgiveness workshops in Lebanon and Rwanda. Too many acronyms, so I can’t keep straight what EQUIP stands for, but it’s an internship program sponsored by a Belfast church and includes folks from Northern Ireland and North America. Between the different programs we had about sixty present and at least fifteen countries represented. Trent from YWAM gave most of the input. During the first session he used a passage from Second Samuel about David’s mighty men fighting through the Philistines to get a drink of water from the well at Bethlehem for David, and David refusing to drink it but instead offering it as a sacrifice to God. This really caught my attention as I had read it the night before for the first time in years. It was one of several passages that Josh Rock wrote in a Christmas card for me from him and Yvette. I experienced the Lord saying something immensely personal to me in the midst of this talk, and the whole retreat, about being valiant for him and the justice he desires on Earth along with sacrificing that which is most dear to God simply out of love for him. This is somewhat easier to get inspired about for a weekend, but I think it’s a fundamental part of what the Lord is calling me to in life, and a reminder of that as this retreat was a tremendous blessing. Another highlight of the weekend was getting a chance to see the Giant’s Causeway. It’s a completely bizarre rock formation of columns and pillars that is mirrored across the channel in Scotland. The legend is that it was once a part of a giant’s bridge between Scotland and Ireland, with only the ends exposed and the rest submerged now. It’s on a beautiful stretch of the north coast. This is definitely a weird and amazing enough place to deserve a good folk explanation.

Monday the 8^th in the afternoon it was back to Belfast, and a stretch of several days at home. I was still scrambling to get things set for the new term, as well as prepare for Friday when I would leave for Poland for a week. This attempt was seriously hampered by the fact that my computer decided to take this week to make itself off limits, I couldn’t get to anything on it at all until Thursday, and then it was still temperamental. Q and I have been talking about a chance for me to travel somewhere in Europe where there’s another SOS community since I arrived in the autumn. Martin visits the community in Bielsko-Biala several times a year (the L in Biala has a hatch mark meaning it has a W sound). The community, City on a Hill or Miasto na Gorze in Polish, is incredibly hospitable. Originally I thought I was going to tag along, see a new place, and connect in with whatever Martin was doing. As it turned out I ended up having a whole set of things that I did on my own. I gave a sharing/presentation to both Harambee (16-19 year olds, Polish High school age) and their Student group (20+, equivalent to UCO and TEC). I also ran a half-day workshop on the roll of a youth or university worker and the need to balance confidentiality and seeking help beyond ourselves when certain issues arise. I also gave a sharing on joy and hope at the community’s movement meeting (a prayer meeting of a couple hundred) and met with the leaders of Harambee and CDW (11-15 year olds) for their staff meetings. All of this was done though translation, a completely new experience for me. Sometimes the translation gave me a good chance to think more about my words and speak more clearly then I normally do. At other times I found myself listening to how the translation sounded and forgetting what I was talking about. The first sharing (at Harambee) was a little rough. It was the first thing I did at about 7:30pm on Friday after arriving from the airport, having been up since 3:15am to catch all my connections. This coupled with a first time experience of being translated made it less then my most lucid sharing ever. All these things meetings had a slightly surreal aspect. Suddenly I was related to as an expert in all sorts of areas, some of which I have actually very slim experience in. Strangely enough I experienced that when called upon I was actually able to positively contribute. It was also important to just laugh at some of the situations I found myself in, regularly thinking “If they only knew who they had here … but I’m the one here so I might as well get on with it and let the Lord do what he wants.”

Other Polish activities included teaching English lessons three mornings in Polish schools, a day in Krakow, and eating (lots and lots of eating). The English classes were a riot. I talked about some of the differences between UK and US usage (one man’s pants …) told a few jokes in English (not very funny even to native speakers) and shared some slang. The day in Krakow was wonderful. It’s a stunning city, beautiful architecture and some opulent churches (full of stunning treasures and priceless artifacts in guide book-ese). There’s enough there for a week of sightseeing, so it was a full day. We hiked up to the belfry of the cathedral on Wawel Hill (Krakow’s royal palace/castle from centuries of Polish kings) to see the four hundred year old Big Sigzmund (Poland’s Big Ben). I had to laugh climbing the crazy stairs, having to crouch down to squeeze under and between ancient timbers. This place would have been closed to the public (for their own safety of course) in the US long ago. Another highlight of Krakow was perogies. An absolute favorite of mine that I’d normally only get on Christmas Eve when grandma makes them. We picked one wee restaurant from the hundreds of potentials to get a steaming plate of this ultimate comfort food. There was no lack of food while in Poland. I was hosted for different meals at a half dozen different families. Every one of these was a feast. The hardship came when I had to go to several of these in a row (I think Sunday might have included the most food I have ever seen in any single day).

The Witeks were my hosts during my stay. Piotr and Wanda both help to lead some of the youth and university work in Miaso na Gorze. They have four great kids – Teresa, Pawel, Jan, and Michal. Plugging into family life and playing with the kids for a week was a real treat. It highlighted how beautiful loving family life is, and strangely enough strengthened my conviction that I personally am supposed to forgo this amazing gift for the sake of the Lord and his service. A final revelation during my time was Polish music. I had many opportunities to pray with different groups in Bielsko. Each time I was struck at how beautiful Polish in song and praise is. I certainly wasn’t expecting to find Polish music so moving. Some of the songs are translated from English so I know what they are about, and many others were written by members of the community. All told it was a tremendous chance to connect with some of my Polish heritage (it also gives me a lot to talk about with Grandma and Grandpa).

The trip home was more adventurous then I expected. Gale force winds in the UK delayed my flight from Krakow to Luton for three and a half hours. I ended up having to spend the night in lovely Luton airport as my connection cushion completely evaporated. After getting there I met up with a Polish couple who I found out was immigrating to Belfast. We got a coffee together and spent much of the night getting to know each other. It turns out they are from the same area in Poland my family on Grandpa’s side is. We got to pass the time together, play cards, lament our situation, and talk a bit about what’s most important in life. We had some significant spiritual conversations, and I was again amazed. Here is a crappy situation I find myself in that God turns around and leads me to make some new friends and share what he’s done in my life.

I got back to Belfast Friday morning the 19^th. The good news was Bruce had resurrected my computer without having to wipe all the files. After madly catching up on things for a few hours I crashed for much of the day and tried to catch up in a more pressing way. Saturday morning it was off to Ballantoi for the Charis weekend. Nearly the entire community, from babies to retirees, stayed together at a hostel. Once again I was on the beautiful north coast of Ireland. The whole time was a mix of lots of fellowship and some very good teaching by Anton and Angela Collela from the community in Glasgow. They shared about hope (that seems to come up a lot lately) and dreams. There were several relational and spiritual pinnacles, but my personal nadir had to be attempting to sing a song (I’ve blissfully forgotten which) during Party Karaoke time I thought I knew much better then is actually the case. More could be said, but in order to prevent the length of this entry moving from absurd to completely ridiculous I really should stop. I’ll be getting some pictures from Poland from Wanda so I’ll add those when I get them.

One of the things that we put some effort into in this brotherhood I’m a part of is observing different times and seasons. The seasons of Advent has, over the last several years, become one of my favorite times of the year. The old year is dying, the days are the darkest of the year (at least north of the equator, in Belfast that’s very dark indeed). We go through a special set of scripture reflections during the special seasons, with everyone in the house putting aside or at least supplementing their personal studies with our house meditations. We take a part of our dinners to share any reflections and insights that we have from the passage of the day. I find it a great way to engage in and reflect on what God is about during the time.

Early on during Advent a phrase from 2 Peter 3 “waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of the Lord” caught my attention. I found myself coming back to this passage on several occasions over the last weeks. I believe that Christ is going to come again, that there is a building of and preparing for his kingdom that I am supposed to participate in. Does my life reflect that? Am I available to Christ and his plan? Am I repentant of the sin, the pride and distraction, in my life as there is no place for it in the life of a disciple. Am I even *aware* of it? Some very sobering reflections for me. I am meant to prepare the way and point to Christ with my life, but thanks be to God it isn’t up to me and my own resources to accomplish this. It is the work of God and the Holy Spirit working in and through me that will allow me, as I cooperate with grace offered, to journey on in hope faith and love.

A very prominent feature of this Lent was marking the difficult experience of one of the brothers here in Belfast. Doug Smith has lived and ministered here in Belfast with the Servants of the Word for nearly fifteen years. Earlier this fall it became apparent that his mother’s cancer had recurred. It was unclear how quickly things would run their course. In the end, after talking it over with the rest of the brothers, Doug decided to move up a planned trip home by several weeks. His sister back in Ohio was under quite a lot of pressure and Doug was able to step in and really aid the cause of everyone and was able to spend good time with his Mom. Doug was able to extend his stay to a couple weeks and was with his mother in the hospital the last night as she died. It so happened that Dave Quintana (Q) from the house here was in Michigan for some meetings and was able to attend the funeral in Ohio along with several of the brothers living in Michigan. The day of the funeral we began a week of mourning here in the house – some fasting, specific prayers, and mourning Psalms in our prayer room.

The chance to join with and support Doug in his grieving was a real blessing. It was remarkable seeing how the Lord really provided for Doug and the Smith family through the whole time. Seeing Doug go through this gave me an opportunity to reflect on my own commitments. The way of life I think the Lord has opened up to me and I am choosing for does not allow me to be a part of my family in the way I would be if married. There is real sacrifice there, but there is also a blessing. Because of Doug’s decision to live single he was more free to put other things aside and help his mother, father, and family during this time. He was also able to witness to hope in the Lord and eternal life in a profound and comforting way to his whole family.

A less spiritual aspect of Advent has been the beginning of house basketball on Monday evenings before dinner. Basketball was really my sport growing up, at least until about the age of twelve. That’s when I peaked as a starting guard on the Holy Family Wild Cats boys B team. Unfortunately it’s been all downhill since then. The games are fun, and good exercise, and somehow I manage to come down with more then my fair share of rebounds, it’s just the shooting, dribbling, and passing that I can’t do.

From Advent, to mourning within Advent, and now to Christmas. The last several days have been packed with celebration, feasting, rejoicing, and prayer. Saturday was a big spruce up day, cleaning the whole house top to bottom (I dusted and hoovered, the UK word for vacuuming for four hours), and then having a Lord’s Day celebration for the fourth Sunday in Advent. Sunday morning it was off to church. While the fourth candle was dutifully lit on the wreath the sermon and rest of mass certainly left Advent in the dust. Martin spent most of the rest of the day preparing for our house Christmas Eve celebration. He was main chef, pulled together a prayer service inspired by Orthodox and Anglican Christmas traditions, and did most of the decorating, including a real Christmas tree (first in many years for me) with actual candles we lit during dinner. Dinner was some beautiful salmon given to us by a family in Charis. We shared family Christmas traditions over dinner and I mentioned the oplatek, blessing/reconciliation bread we always share on Christmas eve at my grandparents. After dinner I called the grandma and grandpa’s place where most of my Dad’s side of the family was gathered. It was somewhat surreal having maybe twenty two minute conversations, hard to remember exactly who said what, but it was really nice to have a small connection with the family Christmas eve. After that off to church again for midnight mass.
Christmas day we had a early afternoon house prayer and hors d’oeuvres time. Restraint not being a strong point for me it was difficult, but necesary to hold back from another wee piece of the fancy cheeses and such. After a quick nap it was off Christmas dinner. All the brothers in the house joined different families in Charis. I was at the Semple home, for a lovely and ample feast. As things wound down about 7:30 after dessert, coffee, a little more dessert, it was time to head out. Many of the families in Charis live in one neighborhood called Greystown. Every family has their own Christmas dinner with assorted guests like myself, but then the wandering begins. After the Semples I was in four other houses. Laughing, caroling, eating, drinking, and general Christmas merriment ensued on a grand scale. A great celebration and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Tomorrow it’s off to for a week in Norfolk for our brotherhood Christmas retreat. We’ll be joining the brothers from the London house somewhere off in the English country side. Should be good craic, tis the season you know.

Three weeks since my last post and quite a bit has gone on for me here in Ireland. The second week in November John Keating, the presiding elder of the Servants of the Word, was in town for several days. It was wonderful to get a little time to meet with John and catch him up on how things are going for me in our Belfast household and the new service this year. John is an amazing encourager and completely dedicated follower and lover of Christ. We’re blessed indeed to have such a man to lead us in the brotherhood.

The following weekend (10-12) I had my first opportunity to go to “The South” – the Republic of Ireland, spending the weekend in Dublin. It was a cracker weekend. Q had some meetings in Dublin for the weekend and I had the chance to tag along and stay with a family, the Buckleys, from the Community of Nazareth (the local Dublin Sword of the Spirit community). Paddy Buckley, along with another Dubliner Tadgh Lynch, and a Belgian Sam Geleyn, were in Dublin for the weekend from London. They’re in the midst of a year of service doing university outreach there through a program called the Timothy project (inspired by 2 Timothy 2:2). I joined the three of them at the Nazareth youth group on Friday night. Noelle Gornik, a fellow Michigander, spent last year in Dublin helping with the youth. I was delighted, when her name was mentioned, to see most of the kids hold their hands up and point palm ward to show where she was from. I also got a chance to see Paddy’s brother, Cormac, on Friday.

Saturday morning the Timothies, Cormac, Stephen Dick (a Belfast lad who recently got a job in Dublin) and myself had a nice fry at Cormac’s place. It’s amazing the way that relationships work. I met Cormac in the summer of aught two when we ended up being roommates for a week at a conference in Michigan called the Ecumenical Youth Congress. We met again in Belgium the next summer at something called the bible week, where I also met the Timothies. Here we were, three years on, having some good Irish sausage and catching up on what the Lord’s been about in our lives the past three years (also speculating about Irelands chances against South Africa in the match that evening). After the fry Steve and I caught a bus into the city center. I got to see a couple things, Trinity University and some of the historic districts along the Liffey River. We then walked over to Christ Church Cathedral where there was a worship event I had heard about in Belfast going on. Christ Church itself was beautiful, but the event was a little disappointing. The vision behind the event was a broad worship time involving many churches, worship styles (music, art, etc.). The reality was an interesting but somewhat disjointed sort of Christian multicultural show. Fine for the afternoon, but not something I’d make an effort to get back to again. That evening there was a Lord’s Day celebration with the twenty-something singles from Nazareth at the Buckley’s house. This turned out to be a beautiful chance to thank God for his many blessings. After a sumptuous meal, which as any feast should had managed to dirty every pot/plate/container/and utensil in the house, we had an extended washing up time. Cormac manned the guitar while the rest of us joined in singing everything from traditional Irish folk tunes to the Beatles and Dave Mathews Band. Sunday including a nice brunch and a nicer soccer match. (Interestingly it’s actually often called soccer in Ireland because of the popularity of Gaelic football, making it still more complicated in decide which sport is referred to by ‘football’). I couldn’t compete skill wise with almost anyone on the pitch, but could hold my own in the hustle and endurance departments. Sunday evening it was off to Strangford Lough for a day retreat with the Timothies. I’m really beginning to love that house there.

The next week was taken with preparation for, and eventually celebration of, the 35th anniversary of the Servants of the Word. Friday we had a big anniversary event, with maybe a couple hundred people joining for a chance to celebrate the Lord’s goodness in calling my brotherhood into being. Yours truly had a wee slot to share a bit of my testimony of the Lord’s work in my life and why I’m a brother in the SW. I’ve shared similarly on many occasions, but something about this time carried more weight and so was more special (also surprisingly more nerve wracking then I expected). Over the next week we had nicer dinners, a feast with many of the leaders in Charis on Tuesday, and special prayers and meditations to mark the occasion. It was all crowned by my first Thanksgiving outside of Michigan. Sixteen of, two Belfast natives, two Lebanese habibis, and an even dozen expatriots gathered around a extra long table in our to celebrate and feast. Elaine Roub, a Minnesotan who is helping with the Gap program, was chief chef. She headed a crew that produced a full on turkey feast with all the fixings.

The next day (for the second time in a fortnight) it was off to the Republic of Ireland. Counter intuitively this trip tp ‘The South’ involved heading steadily west by north west for a few hours until I was on the northern Donegal coast near a place called Downings for the geographically interested. This is one of the ironies of the partition here in Ireland. When most of Ireland became independent of the UK three of the nine Ulster counties with predominantly Catholic populations went with the other three southern provinces and the other six Ulster counties with Protestant majorities became Northern Ireland, remaining a part of the UK. It just so happens that the most northerly part of Ireland (Donegal) is part not a part of Northern Ireland. Anyhow, the occasion for this trip was the TEC men’s weekend we called ‘The Yorkie Challenge’ (those who’ve spent time in the UK will understand the sweet allusion). We stayed at and worked on a couple old houses that are being prepared as a facility that different groups (youth groups, recovering addicts) will be able to use. The weekend was class and included: power tools, tearing out an old rotten floor, moving huge quantities of rock, lashing rain, a brilliant double rainbow, the maiden test of Peter’s potato gun (black PVC, very sharp), a huge bonfire with the afore mentioned floor and a tree we took down, Band of Brothers viewing, bacon and other fried things, mud, cigars, and a brilliant sunny tour of some breathtaking Donegal coast on Sunday morning. Not bad all told, we’re looking for our next chance to do some more work up there.

A few more linguistic gems to close this (overly long) post:

Cracker: adjective, meaning brilliant, splendid, dead on etc.

Eejit: from idiot, a slaggin’ (or sleggin) word for sure, but surprisingly mild

and two of my favorites from the last couple weeks:

usen’t (use-int): contraction of used not, I heard this one down in Dublin. Usage example “Dublin is booming right now, but it usen’t to be like that.” For whatever reason (maybe the accent has something to do with it) I find this one particularly charming.

scundered (two syllables, Skun-derd): embarrassed or mortified, I heard this one from a Belfast native with a poor sense of direction, saying she’s completely scundered when she has to get directions from people who have only lived in the city for a couple months. If someone makes a bit of an eejit of themselves you might sleg off on him by saying “skundered fer ya”.

I’ve been a bit remiss in posting, so I have, so I thought I’d give yous’ons a bit of the old run down on the last couple weeks.  I just got back this evening from a Servants of the Word house retreat weekend.  We were nearly complete, Peter was off serving on the NUTS residential.  NUTS is the aptly named YI project for 11-14 year olds.  On getting back I asked Peter how he was doing and with a big grin he said “wiped out”.  Apparently the main tasks of the weekend were helping the kids grow in faith and confiscating candy.  He said some of the kids brought as much candy/soda/crisps as clothing for the weekend (crisps this part of the word are potato chips, potato chips are something else).

The other seven of us from the house enjoyed a lovely weekend on Strangford Lough, the same place I went to one of my first couple weeks here in NI.   There’s a map showing where it is in relation to Belfast.  The topic for out time was the interior life and protecting sacred space.  Lots of space for reading, prayer, reflection, and enjoying the beautiful surroundings, all told a marvelous weekend.  Saturday morning was a spiritual highpoint for me.  Q pulled a couple selections from a book called The Soul of the Apostolate.  Reading over the selection about the interior life and being united to Christ I think the Lord helped me to do just that.  Being recollected has been a big topic, both for the SW at large and my own personal formation, over the last year and a half or two.  My experience of Saturday morning was one of having many strands, thoughts, and prayers of the last time in the area be woven together more coherently.  A time when much that I’ve assented to and agree with came into finer focus, more penetrating comprehension.  So anyways, that was nice.  After that I had a chance to go for a walk into the national trust site, Castle Ward, that’s literally less then a five minutes walk from the front door.  I quickly found a grand spreading old beech which over hung the sea wall, found a comfortable perch twenty feet up, and got lost in thought watching the tide fill up the Lough.  The best word to describe the beeches there along the shore is entish – I didn’t actually talk to the tree while sitting up there though, just myself and God.

Saturday afternoon Doug, Noel, and I took a little drive down the coast, low tide by now.  We checked out a castle, hiked out on the kelp strewn mud flats, and got to within fifty yards of some seals hauled out on to the rocks.  The seals were something else, they look really comical flopping around on the rocks, no grace at all.  But when they get in the water, look out.  I did a little research and these boys can stay under for thirty minutes and go up to fifty meters deep before they need to surface.  I think there must be some really profound spiritual insights about being in the right place and all … but I’ll need to let that stew.  Today there was more good time to read and meditate, as well as a chance for Georges to roundly defeat me in a fierce ping pong match, and to take a run through the Castle Ward grounds.  Here’s a picture of Audley’s Castle, a tower ruins that was along the run.On Friday night before the retreat Doug took Noel, Georges, and I to dinner with some friends of his from church who live in Portaferry across the Lough from Strangford.  We ate at Karen’s place with her boyfriend John and Connor, another guy from church.  The whole experience was quintessentially Irish.  Karen’s place is one of the smallest homes I’ve ever been in.  The seven of us filled up the main room (smaller then my dorm rooms at U of M) there was also a small kitchen, a smaller bathroom, and a loft bedroom reached by a ladder going up into the ceiling.  The house is in a row of small cottages that look out over the Lough which starts just 20 feet from the front door and is opposite a small marina where some sail boats tie in.  With a cheery fire going, good food, and great banter the evening was grand.  John was the second guy this side of the pond that I could talk a bit about the D-town Tigers with, I told him next year the Tigs will be back.  After dinner we hopped on the ferry and made our way across to Strangford.

The Friday previous I had another excellent dinner at Mags, Elaine, and Maureen’s house (three sisters from Charis).  An eclectic bunch, the party included myself and Elaine from the States, Georges and Joelle from Lebanon, Mags from “the South” (the Republic of Ireland), and four Northern Irish (the Walsh’s  a Charis couple w/children in Uni, Clare a gal from TEC, and Sharon a younger gal widowed last year).  The meal was Spanish in inspiration, and very tasty, but in Irish fashion featured several different potato preparations.  Mags had everyone who came along bring along a photo that means something.  Not having much this side of the pond in the way of photographs I asked my folks to scan a few family pics and send them my way.  I eventually picked this one when me and Beth were the ring bearer and flower girl (respectively) at my Uncle Larry and Aunt Theresa’s wedding.  I think we cut a dashing couple at five and three, plus the choice allowed me to warn about the potential pitfalls of mixing wee lads, tailcoats, and banquet hall toilets.  Another delightful part of the evening was the singing.  After the pictures Mary Walsh called for some Lebanese songs from Georges which needed to be followed by a traditional Irish tune and an American musical song or two.

One final highlight of the last couple weeks was a visit from a couple of the brothers stationed in London.  Andy Pettman was in town for a couple days for meetings.  We took a stroll one afternoon enjoying the botanical gardens and greenhouse, swapping tidbits of natural history and trying to recall the genus or family of various trees and flowers.  Really a blessing to knock some of the rust off the ID skills.  Richard Perry was in town a few more days and we had a chance to go down to the local (most frequented pub, the Malone Lodge in this case) to sit in the comfy chairs and enjoy some frothy Gaelic refreshment while catching up.

Thanks for taking the time to wade through these musings.  One quick prayer request is for a TEC outreach weekend we’re aiming to have the 24-26 of November.  There have been some facility issues (more precisely, the issues revolve around lack of facilities fitting our stringent criteria, dead cheap).  I’d really appreciate prayers for the invites TECsters will make and the practical details of the weekend.

I’m definitely growing in my understanding of Belfast, getting an inkling of how much there is I just don’t see and pick up on.  The area where our house is in south Belfast is a mixed area.  There are several of these but most of the city is clearly carved up between Protestant and Catholic.  You can pick it up from the murals painted on the sides of many buildings and what team the occupants of any given pub are supporting.  I can pick out someplaces as clearly loyalist, and others as republican, but a native knows intuitevely the intricate patchwork of the city.  It’s somewhat boggling to me how present the sectarian differences are here, having grown up in relatively homogenous suburban america where most people could really care less about religious background (or too commonly religion at all).  A perseptive fellow can normally nail down someones denominational background through a few simple questions like “what’s your name?”, “where do you live?”, and “where did you go to school?”.

Last night there was a Charis Lord’s Day celebration.  I’m really enjoying getting to know the brothers and sisters in Charis.  As I think many of you know the Sword of the Spirit communities have a set of prayers and a special meal on Saturday night in order to usher in Sunday and observe it, the day of Christ’s resurrection, in a prayerful, thankful, and joyous way.  The Charis community has one Saturday a month where the whole community joins together for the opening prayers and then goes to different houses for the meal.  I went to the McFaddens, a Protestant family.  They hosted me along with a couple folks from TEC and a Catholic family.  The whole time was delightful, an easygoing and entirely pleasant affair.  It’s so clear to me what a blessing it is for folks from different traditions to live life together and support one another in following Christ.  It’s clear that this is a blessing, but unfortunately it’s a bit under represented in Belfast.  Overall I’m thankful to be living in the midst of this people who have found such rich life together amidst the real obstacles to that here in Belfast.

Today the lads here in the house had a bit of an outing together.  We went hiking up by Belfast castle to a place called Napolean’s nose (it looks a bit like a giant sleeping with the highest point being the nose, but I’m not sure where the Napolean bit comes in).  A nice little climb, from the top you can get a view of much of Belfast, this one here is of North Belfast and Belfast Lough (actually taken on a previous occasion by Bruce, our view today was a bit cloudier).  We brought along the houses frisbee supply and played frolf up and down the hike.  From the top there was a stiff wind going, very difficult to get off a good throw.  Q had one that caught some thermals and went farther then I’ve ever seen one go in my life.  I had a good stretch until I had a seriously errant throw go well off the path down a steep hill, landing in the middle of a thick patch of black berries, wild rose, and stinging nettles.  After slow progress for about twenty minutes I managed to recover the disc.  Amazingly, despite many precarious lies, all of our frisbees made it home.  They’ll be able to threaten the Irish public on yet another occasions.

One more aspect of life here I’m figuring out a bit are some of the language differences.  There are many, maybe I’ll try to keep up a little running Irish lexicon.  Here are a few of the more important, or just entertaining, ones so far:

Slaggin’ and slags off:  the Northern Irish well refined art of cutdowns, backhanded compliments, and sarcasm.  You need a slightly thicker skin then back home, but it’s generally good natured.

Yousons: All of you folks, just like y’all.

Uni: The universtiy.  If I’m trying to blend in I might ask someone what they’re taking at uni, ie what are you studying.  Truth be told I don’t blend very well.

So I was: an emphatic, many variations on the theme, some of the lads here can distill half a dozen variations in a single sentence. 

What’s the craic?:  What’s going on with you, how are things going, can also be used descriptively- I was heading from city center to uni, so I was, and saw some of my mates there on the corner, so I did, and asked them if they wanted to go for a swallie (get a drink).  So we ducked in and grabbed a pint, so we did, and, aye – it was good craic … so it was.

Slicked (two syllables, slick-ed): I’ve only heard this one once but I think it’s brilliant.  Basically it’s a contraction of sly and wicked, could be used to describe someone who sneakily always manages not to buy a round at the pub or the like.

God Bless yousons, I appreciate all your prayers.  I’ve gotta go get washed up and remove the last prickers from my lacerated limbs now.

Some pictures as promised:

Here’s the house

 Front room view

 Me and some gappers on a cliff in Glenariff (I’m the one in front holding a frisbee *grin*).

 Another Glenariff view, you can just make out Scotland on the horizon.

I’ve been here almost exactly a month now, and have definitely grown to appreciate the household life round these parts. For one, it’s not a bad place. 23 Wellington Park was in one of it’s former manifestations an art gallery. Right now there’s quite a collection of Jamie Treadwell originals about. Jamie is a brother who spent years living here and serving with YI (Youth Initiatives, cross community youth work). He used to retransform the house into a gallery periodically to sell some of his works to fundraise for the ministry.

Much more important then the bricks and mortar are the brothers who live here. There are eight of us here in the house. Four life long brothers, one fully committed (that’d be me), and three gappers. I’ll have to let you know what the gap program is more fully in the future, but the short description is gappers are young men and women taking a year to do volunteer missionary work and seek personal growth in discipleship.

Peter DeMarais is my roommate. The youngest guy in the house comes in at a trim 5’11 and ¾, just shy of nineteen years, born and raised in Minnesota. He was on the varsity wrestling team since the eighth grade, so I’m careful to maintain a good rapport between the two of us, it just wouldn’t do to get pinned in two point three seconds by a guy nine years younger then me. He’s serving mostly with YI and is also the main weekday cook and shopper at the house.

Noel Delgadillo is a Nica (Nicaraguan) from Miami. He just finished his degree back in Florida at FIU and is serving here in Belfast with both TEC and YI. Along with leading his high school youth group and the small UCO back in Miami he managed to run a couple years of cross country at university. Noel is our houses secret weapon in the fall of aught seven servants of the word ten K challenge. The houses here, in Ann Arbor, Detroit, and Monterrey are going to get their top three or five members to run an official 10 K race and compare the times. I’m supposed to be much faster then I currently am. My training has been hampered by a bothersome chest cold that doesn’t want to let me go (there are much worse things in life).

Georges Farhat is a giant Lebanese, six foot and a couple few inches, and nearly half that width at the shoulders. He would be an intimidating sight if he wasn’t always grinning, laughing, and full of joy. One of the inspiring things about living with Georges has been seeing his response to adversity. A few days after he arrived we were hiking in a place called Glenariff. Georges and I were checking out a ravine down into the glen different from the way we had hiked up. We decided it looked passable, but you couldn’t see far enough to be sure. I left Georges taking a little nap in the sunshine and went down the way we came up. He decided to go for the new route, got to a tricky bit where he couldn’t go backward, slipped while jumping across a wee chasm, wedged his leg into a cleft, and found himself face to face with a bleached sheep’s skull testifying to the frequent use of his chosen route. After screaming to no avail for a half hour he hauled himself out and hobbled his massive frame down the rest of the cliff side bringing along his skull. Upon arriving back an hour and a half late he was still in good spirits and thankful for being protected. Later he came down with a cold, fever, and all around nasty bug which knocked him out for much of a week and thanked the Lord for the great opportunity he had for extra prayer.

Georges is also a wonderful cook. He spent the better part of two days preparing a Lord’s Day feast for us last night. It included three full courses (the first including six dishes) and arak. I can’t remember all the names but it included homous, baba ganoush, fatoush, schwarma, and several other exotic sounding tasty dishes. Not being fully Lebanese we rushed things and only took about two and a half hours at table instead of the customary four.

The life long brothers here are really an inspiring bunch, and I’m learning a tremendous amount about living this life well from them. In the interest of not going on forever I’ll have to describe them later, but their names are Dave Quintana (aka Q), Bruce Yocum, Doug Smith, and Martin Steinbereithner.

The life we share together is rich. We have morning prayer together throughout the week, evening prayer four days a week, night prayers five days, and a regular Saturday prayer time and celebrative meal called a Lord’s Day celebration. The house is a bit of a hub for all kinds of activities. A couple mornings a week I’m helping to run some training for gappers. There’s a prayer meeting every other week, various small groups for TEC, and periodic events for Charis community all meeting here on various evenings. All told it’s a great house to be a part of. This is a great place for me and I’m grateful the Lord has put me here for the year. I hope to show some of you what’s going on here in person over the next year (hint hint).

One of the things I think I’ll try to do with this blog is just describe some of the things I’m involved with over here in Belfast.  TEC (Together Encounter Christ) is a university outreach similar to UCO (University Christian Outreach), the group back home I’ve worked with for the last five or six years.

One of my responsibilities this year is working on staff for TEC.  This looks a lot like my service back home in some ways but in others is quite different.  Fundamentally it’s the same mission: build a fervent discipleship environment where students can meet the Lord, set out on a road to lifelong radical discipleship, and share the good news they’ve found with those around them (modest goal, no). 

Perhaps that’s the most striking thing to me so far in being around TEC.  Here there is a completely different set of young people, completely different, and yet so much the same.  At root none of the differences are as important as the common relationship with Christ that UCO and TEC share.  The same Holy Spirit is calling young people to give their lives fully to God, and that looks very much the same here in Belfast and back home in Michigan.

Like back home TEC is ecumenical (made up of folks from different Christian traditions) and charismatic.  It is sponsored by Charis, a Sword of the Spirit community of families and singles here in Belfast. 

TEC has never really had much in the way of “staff”.  In the past one of the Servants of the Word here has had 10-15 hours a week to do a few things, coordinate with a volunteer or two, and lean on some of the students to do whatever needs doing.  Q (Dave Quintana) has been the brother doing that the last couple years.  He’ll continue in the same way, but now I’ve got a similar amount of time along with some other folks.  That means there is some more resource for TEC and an opportunity to do some things and grow that just haven’t been possible before.

The names here are different.  In TEC we have amongst the sisters a Maeve, Fiona, Maighread (pronounced ma-readt w/the slightest hint of g thrown in there somewhere), and Joelle (actually a Lebanese girl); on the guys side there is Patty, Georges (also Lebanese), and my favorite, Kieran (goes by Kier-so much of the time).  It’s great to finally meet someone who goes about using my middle name.  Speaking of names, TEC leads me to a bit of a quandary, specifically what to call a member of said organization.  I suppose the most common (boring) is TECer, but other possibilities include TECster, TECan (reminiscent a of an 80s video game), TECanian, TECiputian, and TECigander.  Let me know if you come up with others.

I’ll be doing a mix of things with TEC.  John and Fiona are two all stars heading up TECs outreach team and I’ll work with them closely.  I’ll be leading a small group of four guys and working with most of them one on one - encouraging them to take tangible steps in their relationship with Christ.  I’ll also be giving assorted talks and such.  I gave a talk at the TEC retreat a couple weekends ago on being committed and dedicated to each other.  I also gave a sharing about some of my own experience of coming into UCO and some of the obstacles we face in outreach.  Both seemed to go well.  Whatever chance you have to remember TEC in your prayers is really appreciated.