There once was a decent looking princess….

…who lived high up in a beautiful castle that was built by her father. She loved her castle and rarely, if ever, wanted to leave. She enjoyed her time at the castle with her brothers and her parents-the King and Queen. They were fair and just and were loved by all the land. But one day, her parents decided that it was time the decent looking princess left home to see more of the world and to begin a search for just the right prince.

 

With a heavy heart, she saddled up her white horse and took her most prized possessions to keep her company on her long journey-her black panther-“Oreo”, her favorite red dress and her most cherished books. She knew her journey would be a long one and also brought her favorite provisions to satisfy her hunger-a side horn of coffee, several types of cheese and a few bottles of her favorite wine.

First, the decent looking princess had to cross the Great Ravine that divided her country from her neighboring country. Although the two countries were friendly, she knew that she was no longer under the protection of the King and Queen. She marched on in search of new things to see, new foods to eat and perhaps a prince worthy of the decent looking princess’ love.

After a brief bathroom break or two, and a picnic of cheese and wine, the princess made it into the neighboring country’s market place late in the evening. She saw foods never before experienced, heard dialect never before spoken, purchased fine clothing not available in her own country-and also found a great coffee shop to warm her cold hands.

While gazing upon the city, she heard soft music coming from below. She had never heard this type of music before and curiosity took hold. The decent looking princess searched the market place until she found the source of the new music. Standing before her with a sitar in hand, a crown on his head and a lovely smile, was what she knew would be her prince. For weeks, the princess enjoyed several of his musical performances throughout the city and the two quickly fell in love.

The prince and the decent looking princess were soon married and lived happily ever after. The end.

God’s Great Country-Salzburg, Austria

Dear Readers:
I’ve felt as of late, that I’m barely making it up the mountain in my life, while being passed by others who don’t seem to mind the climb. While reading this scripture this morning, “I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.” Jeremiah 31:25, I was reminded of this scenario.

Just outside of the city of Salzburg, Biceps and I found a hostel that perched atop a mountain, promising spectacular views. We had to take a train to get there, but trains meant croissants, hot coffee and jam. Stepping off the train and onto the desolate track, with our backpacks firmly in place, we began the long ascent on foot to Haus Lindner.

A couple of Billy Goat school-aged kids had hopped off the train with us. Dressed in their dark blue uniforms, they immediately passed us by. Their backpacks were only packed for the day-not the entire month. And the Billy Goat kids’ calves and lungs were used to climbing the mountain home.

Biceps and I were sucking wind within five minutes.

With my best attempts at speaking plain German, and hoping they’d understand, I asked how far it was to our hostel. They replied (I think), “Just up that hill.”
The hill was a mountain. And it wasn’t a small one. “Follow us,” they said, looking over their shoulders.
Determined that the whippersnappers would not get too far ahead, and wanting to make America proud, Biceps and I picked up our pace.

Finally, after reaching the top, the Billy Goat kids pointed out our hostel and trotted off for home. My legs ached and my backpack seemed to have gained an extra 10 pounds on the long climb up.

But, the scenery spread out before me-bright, spring-fed grass covered the mountain, the sun had begin peaking its head over the horizon, the terra cotta roofs dotted their way down the lane we had just climbed. It was breathtaking.

The Billy Goat kids had been conditioned for the climb-they were ready. And although I am a runner, my midwest legs only knew slight inclines-I wasn’t ready for the mountain.

But determination of not being the weak link and the promise of more croissants are rather motivating factors for this girl. I knew that I had to just get inside the hostel, set down my backpack and the breakfast would be waiting. The climb had been worth it.

I knew there would be rest eventually for me-“the weary”. If you are, like me, struggling on your mountain climb today, know that there will be rest for you. God in his faithfulness will give you rest and hopefully a croissant.

A Castle, A Beer & A Pizza

There are times when I obsess about and long for a flavor from the past. It is a hunger that cannot be quenched until I tastes of its goodness once again.

There are times when this is impossible-due to the nature of where the food came from.

I have been craving a food from the source of Salzburg, Germany-found only here at this castle.

After a vigorous climb to get to the castle (we were too cheap to ride the gondola up), Biceps and I sat down to enjoy this view…

…at the edge of the castle’s restaurant.

First things first, we ordered a tall Pilsner beer. Then, we ordered a pizza (cheapest thing on the menu) and sat back to watch the tiny cars below zipping around as our food was being prepared.

The pizza was absolutely amazing and ridiculously simple-spinach, tomatoes, mozzarella and a red sauce. I need this pizza. I want this pizza.

Blame my obsession over this fantasy pizza on the long trek to the castle, the fact that I had been subsisting on pastries and cheese for days at that point or that the scenery was unbelievably beautiful.

I don’t care. I know in my heart that my hunger for this pizza will not subside. Biceps, pack your bags. We are going back to Germany. The end.

You Matter. Your Vote Matters. America Matters.

I am more than proud to be an American. I believe this is the greatest country to grow up in, to raise my children in and to believe in. Of course, it’s run by humans that are at times deeply flawed and selfish.

But, America is still amazing. And with July 4th right around the corner, I get a bit patriotic.

That’s not to say that my heart doesn’t long for my ancestral home from time to time.

My maiden name was “Matlach” (pronounced mat-lock) and then I married a “Greiman” (pronounced gry-man). My great-grandparents took a boat over to escape the impending WW1. There is still a Greimann farm (yep, the original spelling had two “n’s”) in Germany. I was born in Landstuhl, Germany and resided there for three years. My roomie and I treated ourselves to a European vacation upon graduation. Heck, I even speak German. We love beer, Wienerschnitzel and Lederhosen.

Could we get any more Kraut than that?

With our profound love for Germany, Biceps and I took a month long vacation to see as much of Europe as we could. As beautiful as many of the places were that we visited, I couldn’t shake the feeling that humanity had seen evil and had turned its head.

Hitler had come from nothing and became the German savior. He promised economic stability, had given hope to a people poor and disillusioned and had promised to rid the earth of the “Jewish problem”.

Under his regime millions of Jews, disabled and mentally unstable persons, Catholics, Soviets, Polish and more were murdered. The German people had given up and trusted Adolf implicitly.

This monument in Berlin was to remind the world of the grottos the Jews and the other “undesirables” were forced to live in for years. The monument was suffocating, confining and repetitive.

I remembered hearing about Check Point Charlie and all of those that died trying to cross through these gates, deliver Bibles, or just try to get information to their loved ones on the other side.

I remembered watching the Berlin wall being destroyed by fed up Germans in 1989 and I remembered hearing Reagan’s infamous words “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”.

As beautiful as Germany is, as wonderful as my German heritage is, I am still thankful to be an American. We aren’t perfect, but we demand democracy. If we will only do our part and let our tiny little voices that live in Tulsa, Ok or Dayton, Oh or Murfreesboro, Tn or anywhere else be heard-we will continue on with our democratic system.

As soon as we decide our vote doesn’t matter, we have given up our rights and have been seduced to think we don’t matter–that the government will do what it wants.

America is wonderful-screwed up, messed up, and sometimes downright awful-but it’s ours. Don’t give it away to anyone else. Don’t turn your head and expect someone else to do something about it. Because you may not like what it is they do in your name.

You matter.