Almost home.

Switzerland.  Although being here for over a month already, after the first week it began to feel like home.  As we left the States, the doors on many trials began to close, as some of course followed us.  But the knowing that the Lord has great peace for us through everything is something I still desire to receive, even though my soul loves to clutch onto fear instead of trust sometimes.  But right now, much is at rest.  With very few obligations, for the first time, I can begin to hear the quietness of myself, which is something I've longed.

Our little town.  The center of this village of Oron-La-Ville, Switzerland, is about a ten minute walk uphill from one side to the other. Somehow, four grocery stores are still running very well in this small village. The mom and pop shops, with your extremely over priced everything awaits your wallet.  Yes, the dollar stinks here, but it's a little better in France.  The smell of stinky cheese, fresh bread, sausages and the ever-so addicting delicious, yet very inexpensive wine, fills every house.  Every time Daniel opens the cheese I really think Victoria just pooped until I look up and see his knife dive into yet another chunk of greenish blue colored moldy cheese. I dont have the taste for this type of food fungus (or appreciation as Daniel calls it), but being a chocolate snob, I sure am thankful to get quality chocolate for about 75 cents a bar! Even though this feminine addiction is beginning to reign in my heart.

There's a Romanian man always asking for money and he takes his place at a different store each day. I gave him two Francs ($2.50) as he needed money to pay for his daughter's bill from breast cancer surgery.  With the doctor bill present and nude picture of his daughter clearly showing where she had surgery, I dont if giving money was a good thing or not. But despite that, in the best French I could muster up, I prayed for him and he was grateful. 

The church, a two minute drive away, is alive with people. The so familiar songs of Jesus Culture, Hillsongs and Paul Baloche bring a sense of home and comfort, even though in the French language.  The pastors, dress like someone out of a Polo ad and the woman are all done up wearing their skinny jeans, tights and high boots. Then there's second-hand store Emilie with frizzy hair, who still can't figure out if she shakes hands or give a kiss when greeting someone. It's still very different here and it would be hard to replace New Life City (NM). Here, no one attacks new visitors with casual questions and greetings, or even an invite to Fud's or Taco Cabana after service, or let alone receiving a prophetic word in front of the entire congregation :)  The people are genuine about their faith but it's wired in me to surpass the simple "Bonjour" and smile and get to know them.

The Suisse, proper, dignified, and well reserved in their emotions, makes me want to slip under that same culture. There's a part of me that just wants to run up front and dance when they play "Oh happy day, happy day, you washed my sins away!" Oh, how can you not?! But what if other's feel the same way and I just stay and melt into the mix of less expressive worshippers. I want freedom, but is it invited?  I do think so, but we'll see.  Yes, this is Switzerland, and something I was prepared for in even a Suisse charismatic and annointed church.

Snow came in November, and then it is greatly accumulating in December.  It is quite exciting.  I wake up every morning, curious with expectation to see how the Lord has once again graced this country with a fresh layer of snow.  There's a child-like wonder about snow that never leaves my heart.  I can still see my sister and I run up the steps from hours playing in the snow as mom stands over a pot of hot chocolate on the stove. For those who never saw or had the privilege to play in it, it seems as they have almost missed this blessing.  I wont miss the mush and dirty snow between snow falls, and then those lonely patches of crystal white snow remaining on the green grass after all else melted.  Three months with straight snow?  I could grow tired of it, but for now I'll take every thing in,  in all it's splendor.