well then, try it again, this time in Spanish

Recently, when Josu and Malachi were in the midst of some swordplay,
Malachai developed an elaborate plan of attack
which he tried to explain to Josu.
When Josu didn't understand,
Malachai explained it again - - but in Spanish

I don't think that Josu understood it that way either,

but it made me smile

babies everywhere, all over the world, speak the same language.


and on a completely unrelated note . . . .
Imagine that you made a dinner appointment with some terribly important person - - the most important person alive, in fact. And throughout the dinner, you kept popping out for a smoke, and then to check your facebook on your blackberry, and then you text you mom . . . .

sometimes I feel like that when I pray.

but what I want is this:
to continue steadfastly in prayer
being watchful in it
with thanksgiving.
(Colossians 4:2)

throwing the newspaper at Joshua was no accident

I was enjoying flipping through the newspaper in our local coffee shop yesterday morning; an interesting article caught my eye - - it was titled "other religions in Pamplona" and began with: (loosely translated)
"even though Pamplona is a small city, and primarily Catholic, in the Navarran capital there are seven other religions present . . . . "
after a fairly accurate snippet describing the Evangelical faith, the newspaper article went on to describe the doctrines of the the Jehovah's Witnesses . . .
"the J.W.'s, who arrived in Pamplona about 40 years ago, share the same basic beliefs as the Evangelicals"

the blood drained from my face, my hand went up to my throat, and I threw the newspaper into Joshua's hands gasping "read this!"

thirty minutes later, we were home.
I was in the kitchen making lunch,
the boys had their shirts stripped off and were in a wrestling match on the living room floor,
and Joshua - - the paper strewn beside him on the couch, was writing a letter to the editor.
I knew I could count on him.

Sometimes people say that Selma looks like Josu.
Every once in a while people say that Selma looks like Malachai.
Mostly, though, people say that Selma looks like her aunt Rachel.
I think that is very nice.

We were a small group this Sunday - - well, we're always kind of a small group; yesterday we were smaller than normal; Jaime and Miriam were out of town on a business trip this weekend, so they were missing
Brett showed up at five o'clock with the lettuce we needed for the salad - -well, it was escarole not lettuce, but it did the job just fine. Rachel and I finished up prepping the food plates in the kitchen as Joshua and Brett transferred the plates from the kitchen into the dining/living room.
The melon went out
and the jamon
and the the leftover roasted red peppers that Brett had brought over the day before when he came over made Joshua and the kids some pork loin and red pepper bocadillos while Rachel and I were downtown having the time of our lives at the (recently discovered by us) Pamplona antique/junk fair.
and the wine went out, of course, and the baguette - - which, as Malachai likes to remind us, is uncut because "Paul says that eating from one bread makes us one body!"
We loaded up our plates and sat around the coffee table with our bibles and our food and discussed our need as the church to speak God's truth into each others lives. we talked about how it seems that, for some reason, all Christians tend to have areas in their lives that are not gospel shaped. Perhaps because we have never really thought about how the gospel could shape that corner of our words or relationships or attitudes, or maybe because we willingly choose to overlook it.
so I'm thinking this week about what those untouched (or even just mildly touched) corners might be in my life, and I'm encouraged as I remember that I'm not in this alone; my church family is there to help me too.
Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing Psalms and hymns and spiritual songs with thankfulness in your hearts to God. Colossians 3:16

Roman visitors (kind of)

we met Brian and Sarah Bennetch about seven years ago in France at our first ever missionary conference; they were, at that time, church planting in Belgium. Over the course of the past seven years, we have had continued sporadic interaction with them- - through emails, at conferences, women's retreats, or the West Europe city team leader meetings.
This week Brian and Sarah actually came to us in Pamplona, and we had two whole personal Bennetch days! They arrived on Wednesday morning so we towed them right along with us to our local coffee shop,
and introduced them to everyone along the way;
They are Americans living in Rome? my friend Ana asked.
"you know what we're doing here in Pamplona?" I told her - - "trying to rethink religion and tradition and the church according to the bible? Well, that's what they are doing, but in Rome"
"ahaaaa" Ana said. she kind of gets us (we talk a lot)

and we took them downtown, past the bull stadium, through the narrow cobblestone streets of downtown, into Pamplona's central plaza, and then up to the Caballo Blanco - - a cafe on the top of one of Pamplona's ancient citadel walls that overlooks the northern part of the city. We ordered some good Spanish basics and talked, and watched the boys play futbol and dance the robot, and then watched Selma convince a complete stranger to read a storybook to her
It was so good to spend time with Brian and Sara . . . they so clearly love the Lord, his church and his world. They have hurt and been blessed and grown over the course of life and ministry. . . so we listened attentively as they shared stories about their marriage and family and 16 years of ministry in Brussels and about their recent transition to Rome, and we enjoyed as they probed into our lives and ministry and asked us lots of good questions like:
what would you say has been your most fruitful time of ministry in Pamplona and why?
and
what were the biggest lessons that you guys learned through that "year of pain" that you went through a couple of years ago?

they listened to our answers. . . and shared wise input, and asked more questions
you know . . . the church being the church!
I think next time we should plan for three days instead of two . . .

1. 2. 3.

last week we went down to the Plaza behind our place to spend a crazy, noisy hour outside (keeping things friendly with the downstairs neighbor, you know?)
Selma loaded her cart up with three important items:
1. the baby
2. the picnic basket
3. the flyswatter
way to go sweet girl; always prepared!

a little bit sad about something happy

My sister in law, Gabrielle, is due to give birth to her baby boy soon; my boys and I have been talking about this pretty much every day this past week:
I'll grab Malachai as he's walking by me and we'll snuggle for a minute and pray for the mama and baby
or
"our first baby boy cousin ever! I remind them over and over again
or
"you know, having a little boy cousin means that you, the bigger boy cousins need to teach him good stuff; what are you going to teach him?" (Josu says he's going to teach him how to wrestle)
or
"good morning guys! . . . do you think your baby cousin was born last night?"
this will be Gabrielle's third delivery. When Amaleah, Luke and Gabrielle's first girl, was born I wished I could be with her, and with Julia's delivery too . . . but I knew I couldn't, because I was where I needed to be, and they were where they needed to be, and that (divinely) happened to be across the the ocean; and that was that.
I don't know what it is about this third baby . . .but lately I have this lingering, deeper ache in knowing that I can't be there - - waiting for the girls to be dropped off in the frenzied trip the hospital, or coming into the hospital room and seeing baby cousin for the very first time, or dropping by Taco Cabana on the way to the hospital to bring Gabrielle the food I know she's really craving after so many hours of hard labor.

well, the previously stated facts are still there; and that is that,
we are looking forward to the phone call,
and the outrageous number of pictures that with be posted online,
and to seeing our baby boy cousin en vivo for the first time next summer

will someone please promise me that they will take a special food order for Gabrielle (according to actual craving) when she is in the hospital and take it to her in my name? I would really, really like that!
thanks!

these pictures were taken in May of this year, when Luke and cute pregnant Gabrielle and family came out to visit us. it was awesome.

when I used to be a bad guy: the gospel for my Josu

I just tucked my Josu into his bed, and prayed for "all his sickness" as requested . . .
and as I snuggled close to him and worked hard at patiently listening to him share his pre-nap thoughts and concerns, I remembered that trip on the train home from Madrid . . .

(first, though, you need to know . . . ) I wonder sometimes how to speak to Josu's heart; I have a hard time captivating his attention with biblical stories; I have a hard time engaging him in meaningful give and take; and sometimes I'm just like - - "what in tarnations did that kid just say? Was he speaking English or Spanish?"
so a couple of weeks ago, at the end of that really fantastic, tiring day in Madrid, I found myself paired with Josu on our train ride home to Pamplona; we were drawing together - - I drew a castle and he drew a knight, then I drew the dragon, and then, inevitably, he drew the bad guy.
bother. he's infatuated with that bad guy.
I tend to gently steer him away from that bad guy.
but not this time.
"you know, Josu, mama used to be a bad guy too", I told him.
Never-ever in my life have I seen my Josu perk up so quickly - - his back went straight - - I could literally see his eyes spark with interest. Seriously - - sparks flying. he dropped his pencil.
"you tell me about when you a bad guy, Mama?" he begged.
And so I told him how I had been an enemy of the the great King - - about how the great King had created me and loved me, but I hated him, and because I disobeyed the great King, I disobeyed my parents and I argued with my brothers and sisters, and I was sneaky and lied to my Mama and Papa about the chocolate that I stole. . .
And Josu listened.
captivated.
and then I told him the extra good bit - - about not being a bad guy anymore because the great King - - God the Father, sent his son Jesus to be punished for all the bad things I had done, and that I trusted Jesus, and that the great King forgave me and gave me the life of a good guy.

and that was that.
we kept drawing.
and late, late that night, in the parking lot at the train station, as Joshua strapped Josu into his carseat, Josu said to Joshua, "Papa . . . Mama used-to be a bad guy . . . "

in Madrid for a day

on our way home from Poland, we stayed a night in Madrid so that Joshua could do an important manly missionary job (a meeting with another church planter). Remember what I said earlier about Joshua's mad, mad internet skills? he did it again, he not only kept us within budget, he also put us right across the street from the Reina Sofia - - one of Madrid's nicest museums . . .

I really had the nicest sort of day . . . Joshua left me snoozing in the posh hotel bed, took the crying baby out, and brought me back the largest cappuccino known to mankind (ok, not really, it was just a Starbucks venti, but that seems really, really huge to me when I'm used to a Spanish sized coffee) and a box of doughnuts. I love doughnuts. especially in Spain where they aren't so readily available.
and then we all bathed and lounged around in huge hotel towels (except for Josu, who lounged around in nothin)
once we were all clean and dressed all cultured-like, we headed out to the tourist trap Starbucks in the museum plaza (for the meeting, of course), where the kind Starbucks employees entertained my children with balloons and straws and Joshua and I had interesting, stimulating conversation about the church in Madrid and in Spain. when that was done we headed across the plaza to the Reina Sofia and hung out there until we had to catch our 7pm train to Pamplona.
see? we're so cultured.
so, the point of all that was really to tell you that the best part of my day happened on the train ride home; but now I need to stop writing because the church comes over in an hour for our study and dinner (the Lord's table) and I need to (want to) get ready for them.

I'll try to get to the fantastic train part tomorrow.

faux journal, day three

dear faux journal,
after we went down to the market for another pint of blueberries this morning, we caught the bus to get to the hotel in Wisla.
As we were riding in the bus I saw apple trees everywhere - - in backyards, in public parks, next to bus stops . . . why did no one ever tell me that lovely little detail about Poland before? who would have guessed?
N
p.s my kids sure are cheerful travelers; I'm thankful for that!

faux journal, day two

dear faux journal
Krakow in Spanish is Krakovia; I think that's much nicer than Krakow, don't you? Joshua used his mad, mad internet skills to find a three bedroom apartment in the heart Krakovia where we will stay for two nights before we head to the conference; there was the sweetest little market that set up every day in a little plaza just down the street from our Polish summer home (the way I like to think of it). they had blueberries! BLUEBERRIES! Eating blueberries wasn't the only exciting thing we did in the city today; we also:

• managed to find and buy cooking oil using only hand motions and sound effects to communicate.
  
• took a ride in a huge hot air balloon
  
• took a boat tour down the river that runs through the city, and mooch food and drink off of some unsuspecting locals (Selma)
  
• saw about five men that looked my Papi
• bought an umbrella and survived a downpour

I need to go and spend a couple of hours ironing all of our wet clothes so that they dry before our 3 hour bus ride to the conference tomorrow.
XOXOXO
Naomi

an American, still getting used to summer life in Spain

Wednesday, past midnight

dear parents of the neighborhood 10 year olds,
if you are looking for your kids, they are in the plaza behind our bedroom window.
hope this helps,
your friendly Neighbor,
Noemi

faux journal, day one

Dear faux journal,
day one - - travel day. we met an Italian man in the airport today. cheeky Selma kept running over to him and patting him on the leg and then running away. When Malachai came back from the bathroom, he apparently thought the man could be trusted too and sat next to him - - and asked him the scoop on European football - - which team's stats had just been posted on the TV? and who did the man root for? and, guess what! we are going to Poland. . . but just for a week because we live in Spain . . .

sometimes I feel freaked out about how quickly my kids warm up to total strangers; but mostly I think it's nice.
the Italian man (who spoke excellent Spanish) eventually came over to where the rest of us were sitting and sorted out the details of his conversation with Malachai. I gave him the general outline about who we are and what we do, and why were were headed to Poland.
"so what do you think?" I asked.
I was surprised at how humbly and candidly this man expressed dissatisfaction with religion as he knew it, but also a tremendous disquiet about the afterlife. I wanted to hear more about him; I wanted to ask him more questions, but we were called to board our flight.

Well now, I know I am a young punk. but I DO have a perfect hope and peace about my life after death; I had to, had to say something before we left . . .
"don't stop looking" I begged him. "don't give up! pick up you bible and scour it!"
and that was that.
and I am thankful that God's work in this man's life goes beyond what I have to offer.

love, N

p.s. we got fed nice little sandwiches both legs of our trip. Luftansa, we think you are super!

hey, phew.
we've been to Poland and come back again.
the EFCA organizes a missionary summer camp of sorts every year or two, and that's where we've been.
the trip to Poland started with a train to Madrid where took a flight to Frankfurt. In Frankfurt we caught a flight to Krakow. Joshua (good man!) sat next to the boys on this flight, and Rachel and I sat across the aisle from them along side of a pleasant woman from Barcelona; Rachel and I grilled her on all of Barcelona's hot spots - - where to eat, where to shop, where to find Spain's best quirky cute shoes.
We asked her about her trip to Poland and tried to explain why exactly we are living in Spain and why exactly we were traveling to Poland. we told her about how we love Jesus, his world, and his church; we told her about our Christian community in Pamplona - and how we study the bible to better understand what Christ's church should look like, how we are willing to abandon tradition for tradition sake, and how we are trying every day of every week to live out what we see the church to be in the bible.
we told her how we wonder if Europe as a whole is rejecting Christianity partly because they are mistaken about who Christ really was and about what he called his church to be. we told her how excited we were to be going to this conference to engage with other Christians who are taking seriously their responsibility to communicate the true gospel as well as working hard to understand their respective cultures so as to communicate that good gospel in a way that would be heard and understood.

we said our inevitable good-by's at the end of the flight, and told her we wished we would be flying back together so that we could hear her evaluation of Polish food at the end of her three week tour (she suspected it would be fairly bland partly due to the fact that they don't use olive oil)
and for your enjoyment, over this next week, I'll be writing about some of my favorite bits of our Poland trip.
maybe.
if things aren't too crazy around here.
we'll see . . .

a day full of blessings

Thank you, Malachai for making you and Josu a snack while I was taking a nap this afternoon (raisins on butter was not a bad choice!)
Thank you Josu, for getting down from the dinner table three times to kiss me (you give the sweetest 3 year old kisses, my sweet boy!)
Thank you, Selma for waving and blowing kisses to everyone we passed at the grocery store (it made my shopping trip a lot more enjoyable!)
Thank you, Joshua for dancing thriller through the kitchen window for me today (you are one.hot.dancer!)

(mullet - - bottom right corner)

Pamplona rocks the mullets.
it's true.
we giggled a lot about it when we first got here, but, quite honestly, over the years we stopped noticing. In fact, I -- the Smith family hairdresser -- have plenty to do around the house and am quite willing to overlook my boy's hair as it starts growing over their collars. ("when in spain . . . . " if you know what I'm saying . . . )

So when my brother Noah came to visit this summer, his fresh eyes reminded us of the startling quantity, quality, and variety of mullets in Pamplona; and we all had a good chuckle at the expense of Pamplona's hair tendencies.

Malachai approached me today - - concerned that he had a mullet (indeed he did)
I snipped that bad boy off in a heartbeat
Thanks, Noah, for keeping us in the know about appropriate fashion across the great blue sea.
p.s. what about temporary tattoos? are those cool or not, because Malachai got one, and he said that he thought that you would say "I liiiiike that"

Sunday, the day after Joshua gets home

I was up early this morning.
I was pulled out of bed by a yelling Selma. I had hoped to get to her before she woke anyone else up.
Alas, Malachai followed immediately after, desperate for some breakfast
(I knew I should have set her crib up in the kitchen last night!)
eventually Josu appeared, asking for some group snuggling on the couch.
So we've had a bit of a lazy morning . . .
Selma has been happy to follow us from room to room, stacking blocks where she can find them,
Malachai and Josu have been busy about swordplay, taking breaks between the epic battles to sheath their swords down their pants (sounds dangerous, huh? don't worry, all was carefully monitored and reasonably safe)

I have mostly been in the kitchen, cleaning up from last night's dinner; and even though Joshua isn't awake yet, my heart is calm and my heart is glad. he's here.
he'll be up with us soon

excuse me, I'm off to hang up the sheets.

Joshua comes home tomorrow afternoon.
if I clean the house tonight, then tomorrow morning I won't worry at all about cleaning; I will go to the coffee shop with my boys; we will read the books we checked out of the library this week; Malachai will be captivated - - new books do that to him. and I'll surprise the boys and I'll get them a couple of Kinder eggs; Selma will see the chocolate and beg for some. I will ask Josu to share some with her; he'll give her a piece the size of a grain of sand; I'll remind him to be generous and he'll give her some more. . . . she'll ask for more and I will tell her no, and she will cry until a tenderhearted coffee drinker at a neighboring table will insist, insist on getting her a croissant. that will take us to the end of the book, and then we'll take our soccer balls out to the park and practiced the techniques we read about in the library book. While we're at the park we'll run into all the friends and neighbors who chose not to spend their morning at the local pool. . .
and we'll talk about Joshua. and about how giddy I am to see him after two weeks of him being gone, and maybe someone will ask about what it is exactly that he is studying, and I'll explain about Joshua being a theologian who tries his hardest to put it all in practice, or maybe I'll get to tell them about the project he is doing for one of his classes - - using Spain's civil war propaganda posters as part of a contemporary confession of faith, written in light of the the Spanish way of living and thinking and viewing the world. . .
(I'm very proud of him)

it probably won't work out exactly like that, but it will probably be something similar. that would be a good morning for me.

that is why I am cleaning the house tonight.

loving our neighbor: a family affair

Joshua is off gallivanting (gallivanting of the scholarly kind) in Philadelphia for a couple of weeks.
he skyped me last night; it had been a long day for me.
"Tuesday movie rentals are half off" he reminded me . . . "put a movie on for the boys tomorrow" he urged. (good man)
on our way to the video store, Malachai had asked if we could invite the neighbor boys over to watch the movie with us.
I said yes.
do you know why I said yes?
I thought that their parents would say no.
sad but true. (the bit about me, I mean)
we've tried before, and it hasn't worked.
letting your kids hang out at someone else's place seems to be a huge, relational trust step around here. (um . . . understandably so, but it's been seven years now!)
well, the neighbors said yes this time.
so we popped some popcorn and made a party of it all.
I'm thankful for Malachai's persistent initiative.