Torres del Paine Part III: Violation Station

We stayed two nights in the park at the foot of the famous Towers for which the park is named. If it had been warmer, maybe we could have camped for pretty cheap. Instead, we did one night at the great Albergue after one at the overpriced Hosteria, which was $280/night. Cara and I did get awesome massages there, but that’s another story, ask us about how differently they roll in S. America- can you say violation station? I’ll spare the details for the whole blogosphere, but trust us, it was an eye-opening experience. Yet awesome. We rested at the hosteria and soaked up the idyllic pastoral beauty before our big hike.

Here are some pics from the drive...

Torres del Paine Part II: Envy

Back to our South America saga (I've got to finish these up!)



Our first evening in the park, we stayed in the cheapest inn possible (only $110/night). It was bearable, but nothing picturesque. However, the most expensive place in the park was only 25 minutes away, so we decided to go there for a gourmet prix-fixe dinner. To stay at Hotel Explora, the packages were something like $5000-$10,000. It is an all-inclusive, with great food/service, built next to a waterfall, with an inexplicably perfect setting (turquoise river and soaring ice-capped peaks). Joel took some sweet photos of it and we are hoping that the company will pick he and Cara up to be their photographers (they also have sweet properties on Easter Island, and elsewhere in S. America- Google them, prepare to be amazed). If I were rich and famous, I would be down here for tranquility all the time.

My Grief (Stages) Observed as I Geo-Bach’ once again…

Okay, so I’m ripping off C.S. Lewis’ book title and good ole’ Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ work , but I’ve been grieving like a champ this week. Los going back to Iraq came out of nowhere, which is the worst kind of grief. When people have years or months to process things, a death, a change, whatever- it seems to allow for grace and the space needed to adjust. My neighbor had 18 months with her husband, knowing she’d have to say goodbye for the six months following. Not me, I had two days. NOT EVEN 48 hours! He was supposed to be home for good. Augh… Enter the stages:

1. Denial- this can’t be happening to me! To us! We had plans, my birthday’s coming up, and spring break. And we’ve never been together for our anniversary-isn’t that enough sacrifice for our country?! Dammit…

2. Anger- this is the stage where I said things unfit for a pastor-to-be. But then again, most pastors I know are fans of emoting, whatever that might look (or sound) like. This is also the stage in which I said if I ever met the guy who “had to take leave” and come home (hence, Los replacing him) I would punch him in the throat. In a more sane moment, I decided I would first ask if he had a good reason for coming home before said throat-punching.

3. Bargaining- This is where I scrambled to figure out what we could do before he left and he scrambled to get the latest flight out of CONUS as possible. We had so many “to-do’s” on our “we’ll get around to it eventually” list. Why do we do this? Why don’t we go for what we want, and do what we need to do, rather than put it off for tomorrow? I realize this is an existential question I’m not going to solve now, but people, we need to take Timmy McGraw’s advice and live like we’re dying here!

4. Depression- This is where I’ve been today. I dropped Los off at Sea-Tac wicked early, then ran/walked Burly around Green Lake in the rain, feeling sorry for myself and wondering how it was possible for there to be any joy in the world when I felt like this... I had no hood on, my curls were dripping in my eyes, I didn’t care. By the end I looked pretty pathetic/awesome. Then I went and bought comfort food at the grocery store (Sunmaid Raisin Bread, citrus fruit and Fudgsicles- yeah, random, I know). Then I curled up with my puggybear and we watched chick flicks on the couch all afternoon.

5. Acceptance- getting back on the proverbial horse. I’ve been avoiding my bedroom since this morning. I always do this when Los leaves- I do anything not to go in our bedroom and look at the bed where I will, once again, have to sleep alone. Hearing Carlos’ breath and feeling his heartbeat is just about, if not my favorite thing on earth. Not to have that is devastating; like half of me has been ripped away.
But tomorrow morning will come, the sun will rise, and it will be a new day. I will go to work in Bellingham, and have a good time. This weekend I’ll play Settler’s, go to school, have a meal and laugh with the Kissinger’s. As the days tick away, all will go on and be well. And God will be faithful to carry me, as he has unfailingly to this point. As my friends’ new tattoo says, “Do not fear! For I am with you.” It’s a good promise to cling to when we can’t see what is going on in this thing called life.
(but just for the record, don’t get me wrong, this still sucks, and I’m still pissed that we have to go through it- that’s the great part about these stages, you can be all over the place at once.)

Transitions, Defensiveness, Wholeness..

My time is winding down at the hospital. I am trying to savor each conversation with patients and nurses, not knowing whether or not I’ll ever have an experience like this again. Last week one of my co-workers remarked that she was surprised I haven’t wept with patients. I was aware of multiple reactions to her comment. My obnoxious default (that I’m trying to change) is to be defensive and reactive. That isn’t helpful. Justifying oneself never seems to open conversations.

My second unhelpful reaction, which I’m also trying to change about myself, is to compare. If I am not crying as much as others, what does that mean? Do I suck as a chaplain? Are my empathy skills lacking? Is everyone else better than me? Why do I care, if they are- what does it say about myself that that is threatening?

Oh, introspection… my constant companion. I no longer want to live in a reactive space, either by becoming defensive, or comparing and beating myself up. I want to be comfortable in my own skin and do things my way, not trying to emulate anyone else, or measure myself against them. We all have different gifting. I want to be confident in and use mine, not that of someone else. I know who I am, I know how my heart has been deeply moved by patients and families; and that impact can manifest in a variety of ways.

However, I tried exploring her question, asking myself if I am letting my heart be callous as a coping technique for imminent transitions. I have experienced a lot of transitions in my life. More than most people. And I have many to anticipate on the horizon as well. Moving. Jobs. Friendships. A lot of saying goodbye and starting all over again. Withdrawal can be a natural, almost subconscious tendency for self-preservation.

My lovely friend Shannon is in a similar space, and shared this weekend how she’s stopped her premature grieving processes, since they aren’t helpful. Rather than letting her live in the present and make the most of opportunities, her heart has many times been burdened and distracted by question marks about the future, which have robbed her of being present.

I resonate with her, feeling like I’m merely ‘treading water’ at times, rather than being purposeful about the time I have. I would like to follow her lead in soaking in all a place has to offer before transitioning to the next place. Everywhere we go and everyone we meet have such extraordinary things to offer, if only we are open to the present. So that is my prayer for the end of my time here at the hospital, for this season of life, and for all who can resonate with this struggle to stay present amidst the question marks of life. Amen.

Torres del Paine (Pie-nay) Part I: Awe

This national park is maybe the most amazing in the world. Hard to say, I don’t know if there’s a competition like that? But I have NEVER seen glacial waters so azure and clean. Joel’s photos will speak to a lot of the ineffable majesty we witnessed. It was breath-taking at every turn, to be honest. Our first afternoon we did a 3 hour horseback ride, looking at the Cuernos, a gorgeous range of glacier-filled mountains. Sometimes, though, it was hard to tell which took our breath away more, the beauty, or the intense wind? I’ll let the photos speak for themselves. My horse was being a brat, but it was amazing to watch Joel, Los and Cara canter away into an Ansel Adams-esque landscape… one of those times you are so filled with joy you want to pinch yourself to make sure what you’re experiencing is real.

Global Travelers

Next to our table was a map of the world and pins were placed from where diners have visited La Luna (the restaurant). Though Punta Arenas is literally at the bottom of the world, the map was covered!! That was so encouraging to see. Cara and I have been to 16, Los 21, and Joel 35 countries so far. It is so awesome to meet others with similar passions and global-mindedness. The more we see of God’s creation, the more wonder we are filled with, and the more we grow in appreciation for different people groups and places. Traveling is such a high priority for us because of how it teaches in an unparalleled way about the (country and) world in which we live. Anyone wanna go on another trip? Holler…

New Hair and Valentine's Day

On the other hand...

At least I have awesome new short hair.

And I had a great Valentine's Day evening with my two little Valentines, a heart-shaped pizza from Papa Murphy's (we went with the Cowboy), which is destined to become a new ritual for us (as long as we're in the United States).  And my prince brought me two dozen amazing white roses.  Love them.

Scripture and Farting... what a day.

Taking a momentary break from posting our South America blogs... to say: which is worse... the fact that in the past 24 hours-

a) I flushed 1/2 the toilet-paper holder spring thing down the toilet at work b/c I was too mortified to reach my hand in there to get it, so I buried the other half in the trash...

b) I got my first speeding ticket in 9 years today, and it's steep.

or 

c) my last patient in the hospital today was an old, bossy, bearded, Schizophrenic woman who kept farting while I was reading her the Scripture she requested.  Loudly.  Awesome.

I was torn, but I might go with option c.

Fish and Chips, Beers and a Pisco Sour

Another specialty of Chile is the eponymous Sea Bass. Cara made the good call to stop for fish and chips while we were in Punta, before heading up to Patagonia. We all ordered the fish, which was among the best I’ve ever had. For the potatoes, I tried (and subsequently have had 3 times, because I became obsessed with) the Pure Picante, which is mashed potatoes with amazing spices in it. I am determined to find out what combo to add, so I can replicate this at home. I am by no means a mashed potato fan, even at Thanksgiving; but I heart ‘pure picante.’ The Flory’s and Los also tried domestic artisanal beers, whereas I tried Chile’s most famous drink, the Pisco Sour. Love it, in a way it reminds me of my good friend, the Margarita…

Johnny 5

The next morning we flew down to the bottom of Chile, Punta Arenas, where we picked up our rental SUV. We weren’t sure what to expect, but shortly after receiving it, we found all kinds of pieced together parts, and Carlos affectionately named it after the robot on Short Circuit. The pictures will speak more loudly than words, but in less than a week, one of the mirrors fell off and the back stopped opening. It has gotten us everywhere safely, but it is a real piece of work.

Joel has been driving, and says that while it works on the gravel roads, it is awful on pavement. Then again, it is so stinkin windy down here that he practically has to steer it hard one direction just to go straight. No telling how high the wind gusts have been, Los says 30-50 mph; suffice it to say, not our normal driving conditions. Other than the wind, though, the weather has been pretty good here, considering that when we flew down, Cara mentioned the 15-day report said RAIN all but one day! All in all, Johnny 5 has been our white knight in shining (albeit patch-worked) armor.

Santiago de Chile: Part Two- Vino, Astrid y Gaston

We took a cab in the afternoon to Las Condes where we went wine tasting at two places chock full o’ local vinos. Since we were only in Santiago for a day, we didn’t have time to go to all their amazing wineries (another trip), yet we got to sample a good handful there, and purchase some for our trip. The Flory’s are way more knowledgeable about wines than we are, and we had a fun experience talking with people at the stores (La Vinoteca y Mundo del Vino). Chile is known for it’s Carmenere and Argentina is known for it’s Malbec, among other things; we are excited to eat and drink our way through South America.

So why not begin with the best? I mean, you only live once, right? After wandering around the city all day, Joel discovered that the acclaimed “best restaurant in South America” Astrid y Gaston (which began in Lima, but is in 6 S. American capitals) happened to be close by in Providencia. We were exhausted and grimy, but gave it a shot. Luckily, South Americans don’t even START showing up at restaurants until 8 and aren’t in full swing until 10, so when the four of us rolled in at 7:30, they mercifully let us in (though upstairs, next to the bathroom, hidden from the main dining floor). Hey, we’ll take it.

Thus, we dined lavishly our first eve, the guys on sumptuous pesto-encrusted Patagonian Lamb Shanks (a regional specialty), and the gals on Lomo Saltado, an amazing cut of beef. South America is known for both, Argentina boasting the best (all free-range/chemical free) beef on earth. The entrees were coupled with great wine and we enjoyed a complimentary hors d’oeuvre of Peruvian corn on thinly sliced ahi. We look forward to experiencing two weeks of our dollar stretching far here for great meals!!

Santiago de Chile

After we got our bags (always a relief to see everything in tact) we made our way through the fog of jetlag and the vulture-like cab drivers to take a pre-paid ride into the capital. As far as aesthetics go, Santiago has a lot lacking. I hope I’m not putting too much pressure on Buenos Aires to be phenomenal, but Santiago left us in want. It turns out that a lot of cities in South America are like this; rather than remodeling neighborhoods once they start getting decrepit, they just expand their borders and build new things elsewhere. There were some nice areas (Barrios Bella
Vista, Providencia, y Las Condes), but over all, we weren’t too impressed.

Our hotel (Galerias, which we liked) was close to the Central Mercado, and we took a quick walk through an area where people go to buy certain foods or goods. Standing at a bar with about 40 locals, we bought $1 cheese empanadas, which were hot off the press. That was a fun first food experience.

After walking around for 2 hours, and exploring a market Joel recognized from the tv show The Amazing Race, we stopped in the colorful neighborhood Bellavista to get some gelato. When we turned around, we were surrounded by 5, then 15, then 25 8th graders from a local private school (dressed alike in uniforms). Their ringleader, Jorge (a short and chubby, boisterous cutie-pie) began firing off questions and trying to engage us in conversation. We felt simultaneously inadequate in our comprehension of the language (man, can 14 year-olds talk fast!) and like movie stars for how we held their rapt attention (a tough feat with 14 year-olds!)

Hablas Charades? (1st in a series of 18 S.A. blogs)

One week ago today we and the Flory’s were being dropped off at the airports (Seattle and San Francisco, respectively) by our loved ones. We had no idea what adventures lied ahead. We packed minimally, forged dutifully through the security gates, endured airplane food and stale air, while flying uneventful flights (the best kind, if you ask me) over night to Santiago, Chile’s capital. Fortuitously, we landed at the same time.

I have studied Spanish for 15 years of my life and was stoked to practice Wouldn’t you know, it only took me one minute interacting with a Customs Official to make my first of many translation mistakes thus far. When he asked Carlos his occupation, I heard vacation (like, are you here for vacaciones, not occupaciones?) so I told Los to say, “yeah, vacaciones,” to which the man gave us a quizzical look. Oops, though to be honest, I wouldn’t mind if our job was to take vacations☺ 15 years turn out not to be that helpful, thank God for the universal language of charades. That has been key for communicating.

South America/Patagonia Photos Up!

Okay friends, the Flory's finally had time to sort through the 2000+ photos from our December South America trip, and made a slideshow you can find here!

I'll start posting the blogs I wrote during the trip and attaching photos to them:) Woo hoo!

One Month and Counting

I am now starting my first countdown of 2008. I know there are a few more to come (countdown to graduating, to moving out, to renting or selling our house, to having a baby, to moving across the world…) yet I hate living in that space. That constant, anxious glance at the calendar and clock. That anticipation. Rather, I just want to live in the present, today, where I am. I want to savor and soak it all in while it’s still here.

My first countdown is to finishing my chaplaincy work at the hospital. I am both saddened and relieved when I think about it being done. I am relieved only because there are so many other competing factors in my life right now, and the addition of free time will be much appreciated. Yet I feel guilty about feeling this relief, as though in some way it negates the deep appreciation I have for my experience at the hospital. It has been an amazing time of examining myself and walking alongside others whom I would never have met if not for this season.

I feel sad because working here may be the most profound ministry I have ever experienced. Not in some terms, as building lasting relationships is a high value to me, and I don’t get that in an ICU or ED. But in terms of entering into peoples lives at such times of acute pain, grief, anger and sorrow, questions and wrestling over choices. To live, to die, to compromise, to have integrity. The hospital is a sacred space and I have been so blessed to be a part of people’s lives there. Though I know my countdown will end soon, I pray that I take and keep applying things I have learned at the hospital, about myself, about humanity.