Bluhb Bluhb

I interrupt these European adventures to share a conversation my son and I just had in the car.  I love his creativity, even if nonsensical.  His words are in bold, mine in italics.

Bluhb bluhb, bluhb bluhb.

Bluhb bluhb, bluhb bluhb.

What's that, son?

Bluhb bluhb, bluhb bluhb.

Yes, I heard, are those words?

I'm just talking to my arms, Dad.  That's how I talk to my arms.  They understand.

Oh, they understand.  Well I'm not sure I do.  How is it that you talk to your arms?

I just talk to them.  They got married yesterday, when I was a baby.  So they understand.  It's important that I talk to them.

And what do you tell them?

Bluhb bluhb, bluhb bluhb.

Right, that.  And what does that mean, exactly?

Phlergn.

Is that another language you made up?

Yes.

And what does "phlergn" mean?

It means, like, that I'm telling my arms to rest.

Ahh.  Well my arms are tired, can you tell my arms to rest?

No, I'm not connected to your arms.  I can't talk to them.  But Elsie can, she can talk to your arms.  You should ask her to tell them.

Right, thanks.

CE Euro Vacay - Prague

A couple of weeks before our daughter's second birthday we took off across Central and Eastern Europe for a wild and crazy touristic adventure en famille.  My lovely wife graciously accepted my minimalist packing challenge and we fit all of our essentials for 10 days into 3 small day-packs.  Prague - Vienna - Budapest - Belgrade - Sofia.  5 countries/cities in 10 days.  Planes, trains, automobiles.  Couches, air mattresses, hotels, sleeper trains.

Today I'll share some memories from Prague.

Prague, locally known as Praha, is the capital city of the Czech Republic. People speak Czech and generally keep to themselves.  The city is easy to navigate and is full of beauty.  Probably my favorite city that we visited, it's the kind of place that's worth exploring and keeping your eyes open.  While there, we enjoyed some good sausage, spiral-fired potatoes, goulash soup, and rye bread.  And these great little circular pastries roasted on a big stick and covered in cinnamon and sugar.  Also RC Cola!!

In Prague, we landed at the airport and hit the streets to start exploring.

With old clocks, towers, and statues all over the city, we had plenty to look out for:

Great skylines:

That's a big church building:

A little music on the bridge:

Seeing this window sign, he said, "these three things we cannot do." He then pointed to the dog and said, "this one we have to do."

Want something random and fun to do in Prague?  Bobsledding.

We stayed with some friends in Prague who were at the time 8.5 months pregnant.  They love our story of little E's car birth, so I suggested we race down the bobsled tracks and try to top our story.  Sadly, that didn't happen.  They did, however, have their baby a mere 2 days after we left town.  Congrats Brian and Allie!!

Finally, we bid adieu to Prague and hopped on a bus to Vienna.  Free hot drinks, individual movie screens, and comfy chairs made for a nice 5hr bus ride.  If only the Czech roads weren't so bumpy.

Up next: Vienna, Austria

An Easter Blessing

Last night was a special Father-Son moment.  We sat down on the couch to read a pre-bedtime story: the story of the resurrection of Jesus.  He was not found in the tomb, because he was - he is - alive!  He talked to his friends, they believed, they rejoiced.

After the story, my son looked at me and said, "I want to hear Jesus, Daddy."  I told him to tell that to Jesus.  And so he did, "Jesus, I want to hear you... for Easter."

I must confess: in that moment, I prayed the kind of prayer I used to pray.  I asked God for something, and I did so believing with 100% confidence that it would be given.  I asked God that he speak to my son.  I asked with every ounce on faith in my body.

We sat in silence for about 3 minutes.  A precious 3 minutes in which I listened, I heard, and I basked in the glow of coming blessings.

"Did you hear anything?" I asked.

"No."

I smiled, thankful for his honesty and thankful for what was coming.

As he went to bed, I told him to keep listening.

This morning, Easter morning, we dressed ourselves, ate breakfast and headed out.  Because I was helping to lead worship at a local church, we left early.  On the way, I asked my son, "Did you hear from Jesus?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said He's coming."

And I thanked God.  Later in the day he told me the same thing.  I can't see my computer screen right now for the tears.

Where has that kind of prayer life gone?  Why is it so hard to believe?

The kind of prayer that moves mountains, the kind of prayer that speaks to the hearts of 4 year-old boys.  That's the kind of prayer that I want to participate in.

Wrong Side of the Pool

I grabbed my speedo and towel and took off out the door.  I was running late, but hey what’s new?  My friends would be in the pool swimming laps when I arrived.

It was my first time to visit a pool in Marseille.  Arriving, I was slightly apprehensive, but excited for the workout ahead.  I entered the building and the cramped welcome area, paid my admission fee, and shuffled over to the equipment vending machine.  Having never before owned or used a swim bonnet, I was thankful for this machine that replaced snickers bars and cherry cokes with swim caps, bikini bottoms, and nose clips.  Bonnets and speedo-like suits are required by the standard pool dress code.  I bought my cap and stood up to enter the changing rooms and showers.  I never saw the “Men’s Room” sign and arrow pointing directly behind me.

In the changing room area, I stood in a long hall.  At the end of the wall were shower heads and then an opening to the pool.  Along one side of the hallway were individual changing stalls.  The other wall held two large common changing rooms.  I’m not sure what led me to believe the left one must have been the men’s room, but that’s what I chose.  I dressed, and was stuffing my winter clothes into a backpack when two ladies walked into the room I occupied.  “Oh, pardon!” they exclaimed, clearly surprised to see me there.  Then I looked up and noticed the word “femmes” written on the door.  Aargh, I’d chosen poorly!

I evacuated, essentially ready.  I passed what I presumed must have been the men’s room and entered what I presumed to be general ‘get-wet-before-you-enter-the-pool’ showers.  I was a bit surprised when hot water hit me.  Then I stepped out into the pool area, where I stood at one end of the pool.  About 40 people were swimming laps on their lunch breaks, and I was a late arrival.  Along the wall behind me hung bags of the various patrons.  So I hooked mine up too.  Then I noticed bags on the far wall.  “Odd,” I thought, “why would someone walk the full length of the pool to hang their bag when there’s hooks right here by the exit from the showers?”  Never did I notice men’s changing rooms and showers which opened up directly to that far wall.

The only person in the pool area and not down in the water, I stood my 6’3” frame by the pool’s edge, fully above everyone else.  I didn’t know it at the time, but I was standing where only women who had just exited or were about to enter the showers would have stood.  I was looking for my friends and shocked that no one was hoisting themselves up out of the water and waving emphatically at me.

Finally I found them, hopped in the pool, and began my swim.  It wasn’t until about halfway through my workout that I noticed the full and proper layout of the place and the mistake I’d made.  All the men finishing their swim hopped out on one side of the pool, grabbed their bag, and disappeared into the showers.  The women did the same on the opposite side.  And there sat my sack of clothes, right in the middle of a gaggle of women’s bags.  The only question remaining was when to get out, take my affairs, and walk the full length of the pool, announcing again to everyone what I’d done.

And that’s how I spent my lunchtime swim.

Oh yeah, I later discovered that I’d been wearing my bonnet sideways the whole time.  Smooth.