The Year in Zahlen (Numbers)

ticket-stubs

I’ve never been much of a “numbers person.”

When I was in school (and by ‘school’, I mean the kind where I still had to take math classes), this made things like Geometry and Calc II rather unpleasant. And when I was applying to graduate school, this arithmetical antipathy led me to enroll in a remedial GRE math-prep class. It’s a good thing too; thanks to the class (and my self-imposed intensive study sessions at the local public library), my math score jumped from abysmal to relatively decent.

But it’s not just the “complicated math” like Calculus or problem-solving math like on the GRE that gives me trouble; I also manage to struggle with very basic numbers-related things…. Like, counting. You have no idea how badly I wish I were joking. If you tell me to count anything–sheets of paper, dollar bills, rooms in a house, I guarantee that 2 out of 3 times, I will get it wrong. And if I count it twice, I will get two different numbers. I can’t even be trusted to  measure ingredients correctly when I bake. (This may be why my favorite gluten-free cookie recipe has a one-one-one ingredients ratio…) With groups of people, I am hopeless. And with small children? Even worse! In fact, the only way I survived being a kamp counselor—or, more accurately, that my kampers survived having me as their counselor—was that I learned to assign them each a number at the beginning of the week and trained them to count themselves. #winning

But although I’m not a numbers person, I know they can be very important, as my accountant mother and my engineer boyfriend frequently remind me (yes, that “complicated ” fella and I made it official 7 months, 1 day and 22 hours ago… but who’s counting? 😉 ) I may not “get” numbers, but I still have a lot of respect for their quantitative capacities. So in a show of solidarity with all you math-inclined folks out there, I’ve compiled some stats from this last year.

Housing/Places I’ve stayed:

  • I left for Europe on July 31, 2015, which was 420 days ago. Apart from 3 weeks at Christmas and 10 days in May, I have been in Europe that entire time.
  • During those 420 days, I have stayed/spent the night in (at least) 37 different places. Only 3 of those were for a month or more. The maximum uninterrupted duration spent in one housing arrangement was 3 months and 5 days.
  • I’ve stayed in 11 Airbnb or Airbnb-type places for a total of 43 nights in 7 cities and 5 countries.
  • I have worn flip-flops in the showers of 9 hostels in 7 cities and 4 countries. *Note: the maximum duration was 10 nights total. And this included my 27th birthday.
  • I spent the night in 4 hotels in 2 countries for a total of 10 nights. The maximum stay was 4 nights, and that’s because Groβ Särchen didn’t exactly have other housing options.
  • And last but not least, I have enjoyed the spare rooms, pull-out couches, and/or incredibly comfortable floors of 10 friends in 6 cities and 3 countries over a total of 28 nights.
  • And of these 37 places I have stayed in the last 420 days, 26 of them were from the end of April until the middle of August.**
  • **Author’s note: spare yourself the trouble and don’t do the math. Although I did my best, the numbers probably don’t add up.

And why was I traveling so much?, you ask. While I’d love to be able to say that I was vacationing my way through Europe, most of my trips were for research. And speaking of research….

Research:

  • I have visited 11 archives in 8 cities and 2 countries.
  • I have presented my research 3 times in 3 cities and 2 countries…. in German.
  • I have photographed thousands of documents and, as a result, lost approximately 57 GB of space on my computer.
  • I have read through/interacted with/taken notes on at approximately 300 files. (I wish I could give a more exact number, but my computer decided to die 2 weeks ago… thank goodness for online backups!)
  • I have spent approximately 320 hours in Polish archives. And close to 4x that (i.e. 1,280 hours) in German ones.

And to get to all those research-related (and the occasional fun) destinations, I had to…

Travel!

  • I have made 18 journeys on planes. 5 of these were trans-Atlantic.
  • I sat (or, in some very overcrowded cases, leaned against my luggage) for approximately 40 hours on trains.
  • I attempted to sleep on at least 12 buses*. (I purchased 2 more bus tickets, but failed to use them).
  • In addition to all this traveling within and beyond Germany, I have transported all or most of my belongings across Berlin via public transit at least a dozen times.

While the above numbers can show a lot–such as why my marathon training has been less-than-ideal or the reason my suitcase wheels have broken… twice–they don’t show everything. Because although my math friends out there may disagree, the most important things in life cannot be quantitatively measured. So why did I bother compiling these stats and sharing them with you? Simple.

Because each of these numbers represents areas of growth.

You see, in the midst of all the apartment-hopping, research-tripping, and stuff-schlepping, I was also changing. And as a result, behind each of those numbers is an example of where I learned a little better how to handle life, rather than letting life handle me. Adulting can be hard; adulting in a foreign country (or foreign countries) can sometimes feel impossible. And although I had my fair share of anger-, frustration-, and tear-filled moments, the process of going through them–of having to figure out logistics, troubleshoot, and problem-solve–was not in vain. Because slowly, little by little, across these last 420 days, I grew. I learned to be self-sufficient. I gave up my constant need for a plan and for control. I adapted and went with the flow. I started to let go and to trust more easily. I became more grateful for the little things, like trans-Atlantic phone calls and unexpected hugs. And most importantly through this entire process, I think (or at least I hope) I became more like Christ.

And so it seems fitting that, as I look back over these last almost-fourteen months, He is the One who stands out. I can’t help thinking of a quote from Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest: ‘Faith is unutterable trust in God, trust that never dreams He would not stand by us.’ Two years ago I typed those words on a digital sticky note on my computer’s home screen, in the hope that I would one day believe them. Now here at the end of my research year, I can say that–while my faith is still far from perfect–I trust Him more than ever before, and I know that He really does stand by us. In the midst of uncertainty and changes, He is faithful. And if we continue to seek Him, over time His faithfulness will water and tend the mustard-seed of faith inside our souls.

That said, my time abroad is almost at its end. In 6 days, I will be boarding a plane bound permanently or ‘für immer’ to the States. On the one hand, I have a good sense of what waits for me there: hugs from family, reconnecting with friends, and transitioning back into Atlanta grad-student life. I will no longer be lugging my belongings all over Europe, and I will finally be able to unpack my suitcases once and for all. But though I look forward to more stability and to having a place to call home, I also recognize that this ‘familiar’ life will bring its own challenges and uncertainties. I’m going to have to start actually writing my dissertation, reverse culture shock is real, and gosh darnit, Atlanta’s traffic will still be as terrible as ever. So in the midst of this transition, I’m going to choose to trust in my Savior, knowing that He who was with me these last 420 days will be with me on the other side of the Atlantic too. He is faithful; I’m trusting in that, hoping for that, and choosing to rest in it.

… Or I guess you could say that I’m ‘counting’ on it. 😉

eza-selfie
Last day at the Protestant Central Archive in Berlin!
Advertisements

Small Envelope, Big Lesson

I knew the answer before I even opened the envelope. It was supposed to be 8.5×11 inches. It was supposed to be several pages thick. It was supposed to contain my contract for the Fulbright English Teaching Assistant job in Germany.

It didn’t.

No, instead it held a single-page, typed letter with these fateful words, “You have been designated as an alternate for the U.S. Student Fulbright Program. Thus you would receive an award only in the event someone withdraws.” And with those words, my future dramatically shifted, and a metaphorical door swung emphatically, suddenly—and likely permanently—shut.

Since returning last July from my exchange semester in Graz, Austria, I had planned on applying for the Fulbright. I researched my different options, talked to friends who had received the grant in previous years, and decided that an English Teaching Assistantship would be the best fit for me. Throughout the fall, I spent countless hours laboring over my application, writing, editing, and revising draft after draft of my essays. Then in January and February, I painstakingly rewrote those same essays in German, working hours on end (and likely driving my German professor crazy with all my emails). I’d never worked so hard for something in my entire life, and I had never wanted something so badly. Although I wouldn’t say that the Fulbright became an “obsession,” it did consume a significant portion of my time, energy, and thoughts. I poured my heart and soul into that application, and I wanted the Fulbright more than anything. (Pause. But hold that thought).

This last weekend, I attended an event called “Passion” in Fort Worth, Texas. Founded in 1997, Passion is a global movement to unite college students with the desire to live for Jesus and make Him known. (For more information and a much better description, check out 268generation.com). I had registered for it almost a year before, and although I was looking forward to it, I had no idea what God had in store.

The first breakthrough came on Friday night.

“How much do you love Me, Steffi?” God seemed to ask (Note: God didn’t speak to me audibly. But I knew He was talking to me. I know it probably sounds crazy, but it’s true. I promise. Even if you think I am whacky, please humor me and keep reading). “Do you love me more than your own desires, your family, your health, your dreams, your life?”

I wanted the answer to be yes. I wanted to be able to say that I loved Him more than anything. But when I looked at my life, I knew that I didn’t. (Lying to God is a bad idea, generally speaking. Just fyi.). You see, I wanted my desires to be fulfilled, I wanted my family to stay safe, I wanted to be healthy, and most of all I wanted my life to turn out according to my plan. I loved myself too much. I didn’t want to lose anything.

“How much do you love Me?” I heard Him whisper again. “Whoever wants to save His life with lose it, but whoever loses His life for My sake will find it.”

“But, Lord,” I protested, “I love my life. I like how things are going; I don’t want anything to change. I don’t want to lose things.”

“Whoever wants to save His life will lose it. How much do you love Me?”

And that’s when it hit me like a bucket of cold water on a hot summer afternoon, or better yet, like the time I accidentally touched an electric fence at my friend’s farm. (Luckily, no one dumped cold water on me at the same time; that would have been very bad). If I tried to hold onto my life with white-knuckled grip, I would definitely lose it. I wouldn’t necessarily die sooner, per se, but I wouldn’t truly enjoy my life because I would be constantly worrying about how to best preserve it. Furthermore, that meant that I loved my own life more than I loved Jesus. He wanted all of me, not just the few odds and ends I was willing to loan him. He wanted my whole heart. Nothing short of everything.

Having finally understood that truth, I bowed my head and prayed. I asked Jesus to help me to love Him more than anything else. I told Him to do whatever He needed to do to change my heart. Even if that meant losing the things that I loved or wanted the most. Including the Fulbright. “Be my one desire, Lord,” I prayed. “Do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

This afternoon at 5:03 p.m. He answered that prayer.

Yes, my heart hurts. Yes, I am extremely disappointed. I’ve broken down crying several times (and my eyelids are now puffy). I don’t think that that the reality of it has entirely sunk in yet, and I know that I’ll be sorting through many difficult emotions in the weeks and months to come. But at the same time and in the midst of all that, I have a deep sense of peace. I know beyond all shadow of doubt that my God is good, He is bigger, and that He is working out everything—including this—as He sees best. And most importantly, He is helping me love Him more than anything. That alone makes this heartache worthwhile.

After reading the letter, a Bible verse immediately came into my head. “As for me, I will always have hope. I will praise You more and more” (Psalm 71:14). It was quickly followed by lyrics of a song from Passion, “Oh, I’m running to Your arms. The riches of Your love will always be enough.” (“Forever Reign” by Kristian Stanfill). I write those words from the bottom of my heart, and I’m praying that God will help me mean them even more sincerely with every passing day. No matter what happens, I will always have hope in Jesus. Even when I am hurting, I will praise Him. Nothing on this earth can compare to Him, and His love will always be enough for me, no matter what happens. Even when the envelope is too small.