Sights and Sounds of Summer

We are in Kitchener again after having been on the road for almost 2 months. Already, in the midst of our joy of seeing family and friends, we are ready to have a place we can call our home. But before we get to that allow me to give you a thumbnail sketch of what we have seen and heard this summer;

• weather – As the onset of the rainy season approached in Addis, I began to feel that same depressing feeling as in rainy seasons before, cool, clammy and muddy. No one finds it fun. Any weather in Europe and NA would be an improvement over this, I thought. We landed in Amsterdam to cool and rainy weather, sure felt familiar. But overnight the weather turned sunny and cool and since then we have experienced wonderful weather. What about the hot, humid weather you encountered that one day in Friesland or the weeks of oppressive heat in Canada and the U.S.? Yep, you are right, the heat was oppressive but I was just grateful to be here to enjoy it.

• Travel – living out of a suitcase for almost 2 months is hard and on our final long journey from Akron, PA to St. Catharines the other week the girls sorta melted down. We knew we need to stop being in motion and land somewhere, which we have finally done (at least the travel part). Travelling with lots of luggage is a royal pain but we survived both legs of the travel (see earlier blogs). Driving our 'new' minivan was fun, good thing that it has lots of room. We had to pick up 4 suitcases on this last swing through the states and even after doing some major shopping (twice!) at 2 large malls with great prices we still don't look like the Beverly Hillbillies!

• Room & Board – I won't tell you how much, or little, we spent in Europe or even as we spent 3 weeks travelling in NA but it couldn't have happened without, as the Beatles once said, a little help from our friends (and family). The generosity of folks in Europe meant that we not only could visit Holland and Switzerland but not break the bank (of our volunteer funds). Bob would fix up a large mug of coffee with frothed milk, almost breakfast unto itself. Miriam gave up her counselling room for the days we were there so the girls could sleep in it. They gave us their car to travel to places like Friesland and gave us invaluable advice on where to go and what to see. Our girls fell in love with 'stroopwafflen' and we all enjoyed the cheese. In Switzerland Heidi and Bruno opened their home to us, a large house where our girls could hang out in one room and us in another. They and our friends Andy and Manuela took us around Basel as well as day trips into the Emmental and the Lake district to Interlaken. What great days we had! We were hosted by Aschi and Mary Friesen Amstutz, Ernst and Ruth Sprunger and Daniel and Teresa Gerber. The food and fellowship were great, we will long remember.

• Wide, Open Spaces – It's hard to describe to folks who haven't lived in a compound all their lives, or even 4 years, what it feels like to be in the wide open spaces of North America. Sure there a fences between properties but nothing like the walls in Addis Ababa. Additionally our girls never ventured out alone in Addis nor did they want to go far into public anyhow. They stood out and were an instant attraction, much to their dislike. So to hop on a bike and ride up and down the streets of Kidron or Tavistock was such a freeing experience for them. I also loved the fact that houses, even in cities, were not closed away behind high walls. And of course the beautiful fields of grain were wonderful to behold, especially at night with a thousand points of light from the lightning bugs in the fields. The sound of the cicada on hot summer days, the chirping of crickets on warm summer evenings. The moon waxing and waning, the summer sun; relentless by day but a glorious ball at sunrise and sunset. Walking fields and pastures, on streets and along roadsides. No one ogling us when we walked, probably the most freeing.

• Home – No, I wasn't clicking my heels like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, but there were times in the past month, after we landed, when I would say to myself, there's no place like home. To channel an old Paul Simon song, everything eastern North America, from Ohio to Pennsylvania to Ontario seemed like it was in Kodachrome, those nice bright colors, those greens of summers, makes you think all the world's a sunny day, oh yeah! A feeling of release, of freedom, of coming home, of seeing family and friends again. In some ways it feels like starting over; house, jobs, school for our daughters, new city. At the beginning it felt very freeing (now, not so much). But I still marvel at how it feels, at times, like living in a parallel universe between Africa and North America.

'Setting Up Shop' in North America

After 4 years out of circulation in North America we landed. Maybe not immigrants but certainly needing to establish ourselves again, almost like starting over. Where to start?

First of all we needed wheels. Without a vehicle life is very difficult in North America. But you don't want to buy the first vehicle you see, do you? Fortunately our good friends, Dianne and Fanosie, lent us their minivan until we could find something. This is a profoundly moving offer. You don't find folks who lend without expectations in return. Our friends did and we are grateful. We were able to visit Ohio and my family when my sister and her husband were in town and drive back to Ontario.

And we did find a minivan when we expected not to buy. We went shopping in Stratford one afternoon with Wanda's father. Strickland Motors runs 3 large car lots; new Toyotas, high quality used and heavily used. We looked at several used vehicles and nothing felt right. They suggested we look at a Toyota Sienna in the lower end lot so we drove over as a last resort for the day. The Sienna looked well used, a no go. We were ready to leave when the salesman got a call from our first salesman in the other lot, they just got a 2004 Nissan Quest SE minivan in, very clean. They had just unloaded it off the truck and were washing it, could they drive it over and show us? We were hot and tired but agreed to wait a couple of minutes.

When it came we looked at each other. It was indeed clean, inside and out. The engine was relatively clean and certainly sounded good (to a non-mechanic's untrained ear). It was loaded with everything we would never afford on a new vehicle; power everything including side door and hatch back, sun roofs, built in GPS, multi-disc CD system, heated seating, DVD player (this would be the clincher with our daughters). It had a funky dashboard; a circular console in the center but not weird enough to dismiss it. It had 146,000 kms and they set the price at $9,950. They would clean it up for us, would we want it?

After deliberation (rather short compared to other times we bought vehicles), we said yes. Wanda's father, Wanda and I all thought that it looked very good, in fact it almost sounded too good to be true. We needed a quality used minivan and this seemed like it was landing right in our laps. Yes, let's do it.

We ended up paying over $10,000 after taxes but it was in our 10-12,000 range. We scrambled to buy auto insurance but by Saturday morning we had both the insurance and the Nissan Quest. It was fully cleaned up inside and out. It looked new and even smelled somewhat new (leather seating will do that).

We did also buy a pay-as-you-go Nokia phone and signed up with Rogers. It is an 'unlocked' phone, not connected to any long term contract. I still have to get used to paying when I receive a call. A big rip off but what can one do? Us consumers have to rise up in protest, if they can get away with it the phone giants of the world will.

We also bought a computer; a cherry red Dell. We thought we wouldn't buy a Dell again after some problems with it in Ethiopia. But when we brought home a Toshiba Satellite and it started acting up from the get go, I immediately retreated to the only Dell that Future Shop sold. It's true that I would normally buy online but I decided to buy local so I could get it serviced locally. Like the phone this is a stop gap measure for the summer and short term until we get settled. It will work for now.

We also re-established our residency with the Province of Ontario by renewing our OHIP cards. This was a huge thing we did the first day we were in country. Having health insurance the moment we land and not having to worry about our medical future is a huge load off our minds. We both agreed that unless we had jobs to go to in Ohio we wouldn't land there. It made all the sense in the world to land in Ontario jobs or no jobs. Too bad more Americans push for this in the U.S. If the U.S. had had somehow passed national health care back when the Canadians did I guarantee that Americans would never allow any politician to touch this just like the vast majority of Americans won't let the politicians touch Medicare and Medicaid . . . or maybe they will. Over the next year we shall see.

We still have two big things on the 'to-do' list; finding a house to rent or buy and getting our daughters into a good school. Of course a job for me would also be helpful. So friends and family, hold these in your thoughts and prayers for us over the next month.

Jobs

So many of our friends and family have asked us about what we are doing next and we want to update them. Obviously what work we will be doing has been a prime topic of conversation in our family. Our daughters have asked us often until we told them, when we know you will know.

Wanda interviewed for an interim pastor position at Stirling Ave. Mennonite Church in Kitchener, Ontario way back in June just before we left Addis Ababa. It was a Skype interview that was interrupted several times when the line dropped. However Wanda and the search committee seemed to hit it off very well in their short conversation. Then life got very busy again as we focused on final packing and leaving Addis.

We were in Europe when we received an email inviting Wanda to be the interim pastor for Stirling Ave. She was delighted and quickly responded yes. Since then both we and folks on the search committee have had busy summers. But Wanda expects to follow up as soon as we return to Kitchener (mid-August).

So now the question falls to me in some form, what will you do? I can say that I have actively pursued pastoral or church positions in both Ohio and Ontario, even a teaching position in a western state. I was invited to an interview at a church in Ontario and currently I am 'in the running'. I am hopeful although I will not despair if I am not invited to serve as pastor. Wanda and I have always talked about God opening doors in our professional lives. Some doors may close but others may open and I am optimistic about my opportunities. I feel good about my education and experience.

My daughters also need jobs; jobs as students. But where? We continue to hope that we can get them in Rockway Collegiate, a Mennonite 7-12 school in Kitchener. That will also have to be pursued in mid-August.

In this way our lives are unsettled but in other ways we feel fulfilled as we visit friends and family. The time will come when the doors will open.

We found out that one of our MCC Ethiopia guards, Sultan, died this past week. He didn't die of natural causes, age or disease. No, he died because he sustained injuries from a vehicle accident. He wasn't in a vehicle. A blue and white taxi, ubiquitous throughout the city of Addis Ababa, lost his brakes going downhill to the ALERT circle on the Ring Road near the MCC compound and plowed into a group of pedestrians.

This is the reality of Ethiopia. Vehicles aren't maintained on a regular basis and we heard of many accidents in our 4 years of vehicles losing their brakes. Earlier this year a city bus full of people was going on a downhill road when the driver discovered he didn't have any brakes. He ended up plowing into a crowd of people waiting at a bus stop, killing many and injuring many more. The majority of drivers are also not qualified to be on the road. Some statistics cite up to 70% of the Ethiopian drivers on the road drive without any license, or with a false license or have obtained a license through bribes or other means. The government is trying, there are traffic police everywhere and they make routine stops daily.

It is hard to believe that Sultan is not going to be in the MCC compound any more. I still see his face in my mind of the last time we saw each other. We were leaving for good on June 25 and he said good-bye to each of us in the family. I am glad we had a chance to say good-bye.

Sultan, like our other regular guards, was always willing to lend a hand in the compound. He would be up on the roof sweeping off the tree detritus that had fallen and was blocking the eavestroughs. All the MCC vehicles were kept clean by Sultan and the other guards. When we would come back from shopping for groceries he was always there ready to lend a hand.

Our family is devastated. Our daughters recounted, with tears in their eyes, how he was such a pleasant person to be around. All the guards would walk our girls down to the SIM compound to catch a taxi to school in the mornings and then meet them to walk them back in the afternoons. None of the guards knew English but Sultan tried more than most to talk with them.

Sultan leaves a wife and two children. That is probably the most painful of all. The safety nets in Ethiopia are few and thin. Life will be unstable and hard for Tigist and the children. If she marries again then that may change. Marriage is one safety net. MCC will also help as another safety net. We do that for thousands of people in our many programs and we certainly will do it for those who have worked loyally for MCC over the years.

Tuesday is for Flying

The night prior to a long trip is torture for me. I know I need to sleep yet rarely can. Instead I usually sleep very lightly, if at all. So many details to manage. I had weighed the 10 pieces of luggage over and over again but still wasn't sure. I would weigh them one more time before lining them up in the morning. In the meantime I have the same feeling I get when I am on a roller coaster ride and the cars are going up the first hill; you know what is coming. It's too late to change anything, even if you could. You just have to go into a 'let's-get-this-over-with' mode.

The mobile alarm clock rang at 5 a.m. and I started moving and getting the girls moving. Our family is getting good at traveling and soon everyone is up (yes, there was the requisite complaining the night before but we are all in the 'go' mode now). Breakfast is eaten and everyone dresses and brushes their teeth. I check the bags one last time and line them up at the door. All is a 'go', now we wait for the man and the van at 6 a.m.

But 6 a.m. comes and goes and no van. Bob calls to check on the van; there is no record of any reservation, no one is coming. In the moment my anxiety level ratchets up a couple of notches. There are questions in my mind and things I would like to say to that company (such as, how they just missed out on a good tip since we couldn't tip them last time because none of us had extra cash and were planning to make up for that). But that is not the priority now. How to get to the airport with 15 pieces of luggage, 5 travelers and 2 small cars?

Wanda and the girls will walk to the train station, I pack the luggage in the 2 cars. Miriam takes me to the train station and buys us the tickets with her train pass card and they take all the luggage in the 2 cars and head to Schiphol. Only when Miriam tries to buy the tickets the machine won't let her. Time is a factor, the train is coming in 5 minutes and the walkers aren't here yet. Quickly we pool money together and with our coins purchase 2 tickets, for Wanda and I. Wanda and the girls come up to the station, we go up the steps to the platform and the train comes. As they say in baseball for a close call, a 'bang-bang play'.

As Bob and Mim race to the airport with our luggage we are now in a race by train. With 2 tickets among 5 of us, we wait and hope that the conductor will not come around checking tickets. In our 2 ½ weeks in Europe riding the rails, the only time the conductor ever checked our tickets was for the long distance train from Amsterdam to Basel and back, all local trains and trams one never saw a conductor. But that doesn't mean they won't check. It happens. But will it happen on our time? I try to think about what I would say by way of excuses. Of course our reason is legit, the ticket machine wouldn't take my cousin's pass card. We are on the way to Schiphol to leave. See, we have 2 tickets we purchased with cash! Please don't take our children away! When the doors finally swing open at the Schiphol stop we exit quietly with the other passengers but the feelings of release and relief wash over me. Wanda later says that she would make a bad law breaker, her anxiety level that a conductor would come was so high that she could hardly stand it. Me too.

Our momentary high dissipates as we are now back in anxiety mode trying to get to the right part of the airport and to find Bob & Miriam with all our luggage. Where could they be now? As we take an escalator then an elevator I try to find the right desk for us to get in line. As we step out of the elevator coming in the front doors with our luggage is Bob. What timing! Thank you Lord! So as Wanda races with a couple of girls to get in the line for desk 26, I go out to help bring in the carts. We found each other in this huge airport on the first try. We overcame the van man's sabotage.

We say warm, happy and sad good-byes to Bob and Miriam, thanks for everything you did for us. Now we need to check-in. For a moment there is a small hiccup when the woman at the desk says, do you know that you will be charged for all the extra baggage? We had heard that the airlines would be starting to allow only 1 bag per person, but didn't know when. But on our tickets it clearly states 2 bags per person and I am quick to point this out (trying not to do this too forcefully). Our tickets originated in Ethiopia, we have the right . . . The woman makes a phone call and somewhere, someone says ok. Sigh of relief, we're back to normal mode. Except that our woven basket barrel is too big for the luggage conveyor belt, it needs to go to the oversized luggage area (where is that?). Ok, fine, I'll get it there, and I do. Oh, one other thing the lady tells me, because you are landing in the U.S., you will need to get your luggage and re-check it to Toronto. (You are kidding, right?) Those are the rules, which makes sense from a security stand point but makes us really wish we would have booked a flight direct to Toronto. This will be a long day (longer than necessary).

Security to board an American plane bound for the U.S.A. is an experience in and of itself these days. Full body scans and your own personal interview with a security official. Children have to get into the body scanner too. A young Asian girl, maybe 5, doesn't want to go in so her mother says, I'll go in first. She steps into the round capsule, lifts her arms above her head and remains motionless for a second until they give her the all clear sign. Then she gets out on the other side and motions for her daughter to come next. The daughter is convinced and steps into what looks like a time machine, places her feet on the painted footsteps on the floor and lifts her small arms high and waits, then bounds out to her mother. Our girls have become veteran travelers so there is no worry on our part, they do it and get through it. We all do.

The flights both across the Atlantic and from Newark, NJ to Toronto were uneventful, in and of themselves. Everyone had their own monitor to watch dozens of movies, TV shows, do games and other things to divert our attention from the 8 hour cross Atlantic flight. The food was good and the crew kept the liquids coming (a good thing for our bodies but it meant more than 1 trip to the bathroom for many).

But in between was where the craziness was. Welcome to America. We landed in Newark, NJ but with what I thought was a 4 hour layover I didn't want to admire the scenery too long (did that as we landed, saw the Hudson River, the NYC skyline and the incredible busyness of the eastern seaboard with roads and docks). After we exit the plane the first order of business; find our luggage. I found the luggage carts, what's this $5 USD rental for each cart? We just came from a dirt poor country in Africa and a wealthy country in Europe and the carts are free. Welcome to America. I am already mumbling under my breath but spend the $20 to get 4 carts. We have no choice with 15 pieces and a family of 3 small (but very willing) daughters and a wife. Thumbing our noses and doing it ourselves is not an option, they got me left to right.

Our luggage all arrives except the woven basket barrel. I head out to look for where to find it. A couple of workers standing around talking to each other, not looking like they want to be busy or on the job, mumble directions. I go down to the end of the long hall, find an empty office and two doors that say, if you open us we'll start ringing off alarms all over the place. I go back to the two guys, exasperated, but in my best friendly voice say, can you help me? Acting as if they are doing me a huge favor by stopping their conversation and coming to look, one of them comes down, goes into the far end of the empty office, where there is an industrial elevator door, opens it and voila! There is our barrel. I thank him a couple of times (thank you, your majesty, for gracing me with your presence and helping me by doing something you should have jumped to do in the first place) until he feels obligated to say, you are welcome.

Now we have all our luggage, paid out $20 for the privilege. Time to make our way through customs. As all of us passengers are streaming to the customs area we find at least 30 stations for customs officials but no officials. Where are they? Did they all take a break at the same time? Other workers are around and they also are acting like they don't want to be here. They see each other and greet warmly, almost oblivious to us. Welcome to America. Finally a few officials mosey on in and the line starts moving. The officials are professionals and we move through at a normal pace.

Now to re-check our luggage. Fortunately it is just down the hall, not far. In this area at least the guys are hard workers. The one guy says, where ya going? Toronto. Let's see your luggage tags. YYZ. Ok leave it with me, I'll unload it and send it off. Don't worry. So I do as told and try not to worry.

Now to find our gate. We need to be in another terminal. We need to take the sky train from terminal B to A. We follow the signs and get on the train/ tram. When we get off I look at the large board to find our flight and our gate number. Can't find it. Strange. Hope we're in the right terminal. We go down the escalators and find a world of restaurants and shops. Again I check a large board, again no listing. I ask people. Yes, you are in the right terminal, just go down the hall. Finally I find the gate itself and there on the large board our flight is listed. Why wasn't it listed on the other large boards? How do they expect travelers to find their gate number. Welcome to America.

Everything just less ordered, less professional at this airport. Is every American port of entry like this? I don't know but all I know is that some Americans have told their government, it doesn't matter if things are falling apart, don't make everyone pay their fair share of taxes. So then we have to pay $5 for a cart and an airport that is second rate in everything compared to European airports (and Asian, so I hear).

Our girls have been pulling their carry-ons all around as we make our way through the maze that is called an airport. They are troopers. We stop for lunch. We buy fast food, not much fruit and fresh veggies are available. Welcome to America. We have time to eat, then we make our way to the security check at the gate, go through that after partially undressing ourselves (you want my watch, my baseball cap and shoes off as well?), the redressing. We find our gate, only to find out that the Air Canada flight is delayed by an hour. So is that again, welcome to America or now is it welcome to Canada?

By now our bodies are tired, 4 p.m. feels like 10 p.m. to our bodies. Tired, hungry, half way to brain dead, we wait for our final flight. We pass the time in a mindless game of Scrabble (it is possible), the girls walk the stores and window shop, oh no they bought some candy . . . Finally the call comes and we wearily line up to get on the plane.

Maybe by some magic when we flew across the border into Canada our luck changed. The flight was good. We landed and went through customs rather quickly, we found our luggage, including our oversized barrel, all in one piece. We only had to pay $2 Cdn per cart (still I grumble, but better than 5). We have one final customs guy to pass, he asks what's inside the barrel and I say clothes and a wooden stool. What kind of wood is the wooden stool. I am stumped, what does he want? He asks again, is it raw wood or is it painted or shellacked or varnished. I actually don't know and a small sense of panic arises. But Sophia is right behind me and immediately says that it is varnished. And that was the right answer, he lets us pass. Thanks Sophia for thinking quickly when I couldn't any longer.

Family greets us as we pass through those final doors. Freedom. We're back. I am too tired to jump for joy. Just a feeling of anxiety falling away and relaxing. It's like unclenching your fists or gut after spending 18 hours in that mode. Two vehicles, a truck to take the luggage and a van to take most of the people. A Swiss Chalet stop to eat supper (thanks everyone for taking us there, very appropriate first meal in Canada). Finally to Tavistock where beds await us. The girls cannot wait for the beds, they are already asleep in the van.

A long, long day has ended well. Thank you Lord. Thanks to all our family and friends who helped us through the day.

Monday in Amsterdam

It was another beautiful day in Holland, the day dawned bright and clear. Bob was determined to get us down to the Anne Frank house in Prinsengracht street before it opened. We were determined as well. The girls remembered waiting in line the last time before giving up. And we were rewarded for our early arrival. We arrived to a short line about 8:45 with the museum opening at 9 a.m. But the line even began to move before 9 and we were paid and in by 9 a.m.! All of us were feeling really good about that, no long lines for us!

We took our time going through the house and reading all about Anne and the Franks' lives, as well as the others who lived there (not much was said about them but in passing mention where they lived and slept). I think that the girls were emotionally connected with the story, in part I believe because they could identify with a 13 year old girl. But the idea of one ethnic group gassing another ethnic group was still hard for them to wrap their minds around, as I watched them walk through the house.

After visiting the book store and buying a couple of books (of course one being a book on Anne Frank's diary) we headed out the exit to find a long line waiting to get in. The girls were so relieved that we weren't part of that line. We found Bob up the street in one of his favorite cafes, had a snack of donuts and hot chocolate and headed to the tram. The next stop was the Rijks museum (Royal museum) of Art. Bob was our tour guide and we enjoyed getting a nice overview from him about the Dutch masters. Some of the most famous Dutch paintings were on display. However the museum was closed for renovation in other parts so this was a small portion of the works they had. It also made for large crowds in limited space. Nevertheless we saw what we wanted to see. There was Rembrandt doing self-portraits as a young and old man. There was Vermeer and his painting of the milk maid. There was a Degas exhibit, there for the summer. We also stopped by that bookstore which added to the load we are bringing home.

We walked through an outdoor market of people selling everything and found a lunch at a Falafel

and French Fries shop. Bob also bought a herring sandwich and I bought one too. He had said he would introduce me to it if I wanted and I had said yes. But the herring was rather slimy and it was hard to down at first. But with the onions and the pickle and the bread it was edible. I rather liked it at the end.

Finally we took a tram ride down to the Centraal Station, a ferry ride to a free parking spot on the north side of town, then over to Joy & Henk's house for a very short visit. They are a busy family so we soon said good-bye to them.

Our final hours were washing clothes and packing suitcases one more time. Tomorrow there will be one final reckoning. Then we are off.

Sunday at Singelkerk

How does that Psalm go? I was glad when they said to me, let us go to the House of the Lord. And now my feet are standing within your gates Jerusalem (Psalm 122 I believe). Now I'm not equating Singelkerk with the Temple in Jerusalem but I was kinda feeling like we were going to a very special worship space. I believe Singelkerk is the oldest church in continuous worship services, starting in 1607. Now I could be wrong (some historian can correct me) but it has a rich history.

This Sunday was even more special. A choir from 1^st Mennonite Church in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada was in attendance and singing both in the service and later with their own program. There were a few observations I made.

The wooden sanctuary had the weight of the ages oozing out from all directions. The wooden floor even looks old, having not been refurbished. The leather coverings of the benches in the 2^nd and 3^rd floors were starting to crack and tear. The acoustics were very nice.

The organist was very good. The organ may have been controversial when it was first installed (in the 1700's) but it clearly was a good choice in this space. Wonderful sound, wonderfully played.

The congregation was small in size and old in age. The guests from Winnipeg and those of us who were guests that Sunday out numbered the members. The pastor said that the numbers were down because it was summer and that is surely true.

I was surprised there was no provision by the church for translation. It was a Sunday they knew they would have a large presence of visitors with their guest choir (they didn't know the rest of us were coming) so it would have made sense for the pastor to shorten his sermon and ask for a translator into English. Not very visitor friendly, service-wise.

The choir was good, really good. And that was with people missing their flight out of Munich and not arriving until late Saturday night. Their diction was spot on, the pitch and the life in the music was all quite sharp. I enjoyed the selections very much, mostly European classical composers (nothing wrong with that) but 3 African American spirituals that were done well at the end. The soloists were obviously trained. I couldn't get over how much talent there was in one congregation, they obviously are a magnet for good singers because of their program.

We met some of the people in the choir and even someone not in the choir but traveling with the choir. He was someone I knew from the Niagara area. People talked to us about our plans, where we came from and where we are going. It was nice to know where we are landing.

After the afternoon service we went out to eat. The girls had remembered a Subway restaurant so we made our way there and ate. After that we came back to Almere and started repacking. The Womens' World Cup was on TV, featuring USA and Brazil, what a game that was! We watched in amazement as Team USA tied the game with only seconds left in overtime, then won in a shoot out. Exciting.