To my brother

I watched my baby brother get married this weekend. Baby isn’t the adjective that would come to mind if you met Max. He’s 6’2 and could probably pummel you. But being 4 years younger than me will always make him my baby brother in my eyes. 

While I usually never stray from the wedding registry when buying a gift (there is a reason people register) I knew that I wanted his wedding present to be something beyond a toaster. I wanted to give him something that he would remember. Something that we could still talk about when we were old and grey. And I got my chance in Barcelona.

The first day we landed in Barcelona, my family was exhausted and wanted to nap. Knowing this was a jam-packed 3 days with tons to see, I obviously wasn’t going to rest. And I knew that if there was one thing Max wanted to do in this city, it was see the FC Barcelona stadium (because there aren’t enough words in the English language to adequately explain what a sports enthusiast he is). “Come on” I told him "We're going".  So we hopped on the Metro and headed towards Camp Nou. When we got there, I knew he was on cloud 9. They had a 3 story Megastore full of FC Barcelona merch. We walked outside the stadium and the store, bought some shirts, and we soaked it all in.

We saw that some people were in line to tour the inside of the stadium and so I  asked him if he wanted to go in. He hesitated. Tickets seemed overpriced and he had just dropped almost all his money on a new Messi jersey, so we almost left.  He was still happy he saw what he did and frankly, I didn’t really care much to go inside if there wasn’t a game happening. But then I paused for a moment and began to realize something. I was at the home of arguably the most prestigious athletic organization and I was with the biggest sports fan that I know. It would be incredibly stupid to not seize this opportunity. “Let's do it” I told him. "Happy Wedding present." He smiled and we got in line. 

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Max that energized and happy on any other vacation. He took countless pictures. He kept saying "God, this is so freaking cool." We toured the locker rooms, we sang the FC Barcelona anthem, and we walked along the field. 

On the way out of the stadium, we walked through the stands when an employee asked if we wanted to stop and have a drink on the club level terrace. “No thanks” Max told her, but I grabbed his shirt. “Why would we turn down the chance to say we've sat and had drinks inside Camp Nou” He smiled and we walked over to our table to order some drinks. We talked for awhile about how cool this place was. How fun it would be to come back during a time we could actually watch a game. And then he said something that I’ll never forget. “It’s so surreal to be here and I want to soak it all up, because I know I’ll probably never get to come back again.” 

I asked him why he thought that and he began to name reasons about money or why would he ever be in Barcelona again and some other excuses that I stopped listening to. I looked him in the eyes and with my bossy big sister voice made him this promise. “We are going to come back here together again someday and we’re going to see a game. We’re going to scream and cheer with the crazy Spaniards and it’s going to be awesome.” He chuckled and agreed with me (probably just to shut me up). We finished our drinks and wrapped up touring the stadium together. It was one of those days and memories with my brother that I anticipate we’ll still talk about for years to come. "Mission accomplished” I thought to myself. 

Max grew up being a pretty go with the flow kid. He had to be, because I was the domineering one . And we tend to drift back into these stereotypes when we’re in a family setting. I’m the typical bossy big sister that makes the plans and Max nods his head and says “sure.” So it was no different when we first went to Europe together 3 years ago in Rome. I drug us down Via Del Corso to sightsee, or down Via Condotti to shop. I insisted on touring the Vatican and doing everything else that we could squeeze into 3 short days. He followed along, took pictures for me, and continued to reply with his usual “OK”.  But when we got home, it became a running joke when Max pointed out (and held over our head) that we didn’t do the one thing he wanted to do, which was tour the inside of the Colosseum. In the moment it seemed like a waste of time. The line was hours long and I’d seen pictures of the inside online. You could kind of see the inside from the outside anyway (that was my rationale at least). So it seemed that we would never live down that the one time we were in Rome we didn’t see the Colosseum. “When in Rome? Nah we’ll pass.” I did feel slightly guilty that we accomplished basically everything I wanted to see and do, but somehow hadn't managed to do the one thing Max cared to do. "Maybe we'll be back again someday?" I told him hopefully (to which he responded with another "Sure.")

Well who knew that 3 years later we’d be back in Rome (and don’t worry, this time the very first thing we did was tour the inside of the Colosseum). As we stood on the inside, soaking it all in (this time only a few days after we had been sipping drinks at FC Barcelona stadium) I turned to Max. “Hey, remember that time you said you’d never be back in Rome again or see the inside of the Colosseum?” He rolled his eyes at me for being an annoying know-it-all and we laughed for a minute. “I can’t wait to say the same thing to you about FC Barcelona someday" I told him. He smiled and agreed (but I’d like to think the look in his eyes this time was more believing). 

I’d be lying if I said I always believed Max would see the inside of the Colosseum after he didn’t our first trip. He’s more of a homebody and it’s not like we frequent Rome.  But if I’ve learned anything this year, it's that anything really is possible. And there’s nothing I love more than finding that quiet voice inside someone that says "I’d like to, but I can’t” and shake them awake to say YES. You really, really can. Because you always have a choice to make this life what you want it to be. 

So to my baby brother as you start this new adventure, I hope you’ll speak up and name all the things that you want in this life. I hope that whenever you think that something could never happen, you’ll remember that day in Rome when we stood inside the Colosseum. I hope you remember that if you try and fail, that doesn’t mean you won’t succeed later. That when something doesn’t work out in your favor, there’s still the hope of goodness in store down the road.  And I hope you’re ready to watch that game at Camp Nou in Barcelona together someday (and that you’ll bring your smoking hot wife that I now get to call my sister). Because it's going to happen. And when it does, it's going to be epic. 

Being still on bastille day

France has been someplace I've dreamt of visiting for years, and I was thrilled to learn that my first day I'd ever spend there was on Bastille Day (if you're not familiar- just think France's version of the 4th of July). When we arrived, we strolled through the cobblestone streets past stunning cathedrals. We stumbled upon local shops where I bought lavender soaps to bring home to my friends. We ate decadent macaroons that make me drool just thinking about. We walked along the port where hundreds of boats were tied up as the locals set up for the firework display that evening. The people there spoke little to no English, so we struggled through conversations when ordering lunch or purchasing rosé.

It was a wonderful day, but the most memorable part of my Bastille Day wasn’t my time on shore like I anticipated it would be. It was what happened just now on the ship before I came inside to write this blog before bed. 

I won’t get to publish this post until this moment has long passed, because I’m currently sailing somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea between Marseille and Cinque Terre. I could publish it now if I really wanted to. The boat has internet. In fact, it has endless things to fill my time: wine and casinos and Broadway shows and pools. There's even Michael Kors and Kate Spade stores on the boat (because God forbid I decide I want a new purse and not have a place to buy it for an entire week). It’s honestly overwhelming that in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, a place that should feel remote, I instead find myself able to zip line, play putt-putt or watch an ice skating show. So after dinner I opted to have a drink with my dad on the deck before heading back to the balcony of my stateroom. And then, I sat outside with a glass of rosé and watched the sunset instead.

We love distractions, don’t we? Not just on cruise ships, but in every aspect of life. We watch TV shows. We follow sports teams. We text people we’re not that interested in to avoid feeling alone. We browse through our social media feed for hours, flip mindlessly through magazines, or become a slave to Netflix. The options of activities we can engage in are endless, and we choose them practically all day everyday just to remain preoccupied. We're uncomfortable sitting still without something to do. We call it unproductive or boring, but I think that really we don’t know what to do if we’re not looking at another face, or another screen. 

So tonight I didn’t let my mind wander to thoughts that preoccupy me at home. I didn’t let myself scroll through all the pictures I’d taken so far (I left my phone inside altogether to avoid the temptation). I didn’t let myself try to plan my future or reminisce about my past. I just watched the waves dance and seagulls fly alongside our boat while the sun disappeared over the south of France. I was still. 

Why is this so hard for us to do? Why is it so rare? I for one, know that when I’m still God starts to reveal the things he wants me to change. He shines a light on the stuff that he wants me to do that sounds really scary. The stuff that I alone don’t know how to do. The stuff that requires me to surrender completely and depend on him.

It’s easy to run from these feelings by staying distracted. Because staring them in the eyes is scary. Actually, when you start to notice that God is moving you in significant ways, it's pretty terrifying. As someone who’s had her fair share of disruption already this year, more movement and change isn’t exactly what I would ask for. While there has been incredible beauty that’s been born out of the discomfort I’ve experienced, I’d be lying if I claimed that because of it I now suddenly welcome all change. That I’m totally okay with continuing to leave what’s familiar, or what I love, or what I know to embrace the unknown and follow where God is leading me. 

No. Instead, I shamefully find myself still clinging on to the bits and pieces of the life I saw myself living. I try to pretend that it only has to be a little different, not a completely new thing. I barter with God the way I did with the Spanish vendors selling fans on the streets of Barcelona, hoping to land on a deal that's as close to what I think I want as possible.

"Okay fine God." I tell him "I’ve wrapped my head around this curve ball I've been thrown, but that doesn’t mean I have to change EVERYTHING about my plans, right? Can’t l keep SOME of my security blankets? Can’t SOMETHING work out the way I had it all planned? Does the “perfect” life I saw myself living really have to be a completely different life altogether?"

This is what happens when I’m still. These are the questions that surface- the fears that arise. And I realize that the answers I find usually aren't the easy ones that I hope for. When I’m distracted, it’s easy to avoid. It's easy to pretend I didn't hear. But when I'm still, it all comes bubbling up. And God reveals the stuff that scares me. The possibilities that require a ton of uncertainty and room for failure before there's any hope of a happy ending. 

But I wouldn't trade tonight for all the lovely distractions in the world. Sure, I love watching The Bachelorette with my girlfriends or scrolling through my Instagram feed countless times a day (you do it too- don't lie). But being still is when the good stuff happens. It's when I find myself weeping in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea because I'm afraid and full of hope and excited and unsure all at the same time. It's when I realize how things really are and what they're capable of being. Being still allows me to hear who God is calling me to become and what he's calling me to do with my life. 

So ignore the text. Skip just one episode. Respond to the email tomorrow. But whatever you do, don't miss the chance to be present. To be in this moment where you are right now. Not stuck in yesterday. Not racing ahead into tomorrow. And not escaping to some fantasy that doesn't even exist. Be here. Be still. And be willing to listen to what God has to say. Because even if it's scary, I promise you want to hear it. 

say yes to adventures (especially in Barcelona.)

I knew my trip to Europe would be an adventure. It always feels that way when you go somewhere new and drink up a different culture. And starting off in Barcelona, I had plenty to work with: tapas, architecture, vino, beautiful mediterranean beaches… the list goes on. But one of my best adventures there wasn’t one that I expected. 

After dinner on our last night, my family and I went to the roof of hotel 1828 off La Rambla for some cocktails before turning in. It was Saturday night and the city was slowly coming more and more alive. I wanted to join the people around me and experience Barcelona's nightlife, but as I looked around our cabana, it was evident that my family was fading quickly. If I went out, I’d be on my own. 

About that time I made eye contact with a guy at the cabana diagonally across from me. He smiled, and we exchange glances a few more times over the next couple of minutes. He was with two other guys who looked shamelessly European and around my age. About the 6th or 7th round of eye contact, he waved me over.

I hesitated. If I’m being honest, I don’t usually bite when it comes to situations like these. I’m oddly prideful and  tell myself that I’m above being the desperate, googly-eyed girl that engages so easily (which in all reality probably just makes me seem rude and unapproachable to most men. I’m working on it). But for whatever reason— let’s call it the vino or Barcelona’s energy, this time I walked over. 

It turns out the guy I had been exchanging looks with didn’t speak a lick of English, but his friends spoke a fair amount (enough to easily understand me but still adorably failing  to make grammatically correct sentences). They were from Bordeaux, France on holiday for a few days. We drank champagne and talked for a while before they told me they were about to go out and invited me to come with them. 

Again, I hesitated. I’ve seen Taken. It was 3 tall, (and strong from the looks of it) French men- and then me. I was in a foreign country I was just getting the hang of. It was dark. And my phone was dying.There were plenty of practical, play by the rules voices going through my head. But my gut wasn’t threatened. It told me to go. So I did. 

I walked over to tell my family, and much to my surprise, my dad didn’t try to fight me. I know he respects that I’m a completely independent and self-sufficient adult. He knows that it’s not his job to tell me what to do anymore. But I still expected him to throw a fit for trying to leave with 3 strangers. But instead, he paused for a minute (still with a concerned dad face) then finally replied: “They seem like nice guys. But if for some reason I’m wrong- I want you to bite and kick and scream and yell, and then run like hell.” Needless to say, that advice from dad took my nervous voices from about a 3 to at least a solid 7. Nonetheless, I still went. We walked down the street to a hostel to meet up with the rest of their friends. Pretty soon I found myself in a room with about 12 French men. I had my guard way up. I subtly stood in the doorway and kept one foot kicked back behind me in case someone tried to close it abruptly. I had my head on a freaking swivel- ready to react to anything. 

They all talked to me like I was some exotic animal they had never seen before. “You AMERICAN girl?” (followed by sentences spoken to one another in French that I didn’t understand. Nervousness continuing to rise). 

My uptight, analyze the situation to be sure i’m safe attitude played out for a while, but slowly I realized I could relax a little. That they were really nice guys. My voices went from “BE CAREFUL! They might try to abduct you!” to sounding more like “If you say yes to adventure, you actually have to be okay with the adventure part.” 

Maybe they were just hoping to get lucky. Maybe they were actually interested in me. Or perhaps I’m naive to how affectionate Europeans are and they were simply being friendly  Regardless, I don’t really care because it was an incredibly fun night. We walked down La Rambla and along Port Vell, buzzed on Spanish wine. Julien chased me through the halls of the hostel with a bottle of cologne (and successfully sprayed me about 5 times. I had to get the dress dry-cleaned to get the scent out and my suitcase still smells like it). Maxim twirled me in the streets like a ballerina. We sat in the hostel and drank with other travelers from Australia and Russia. We met some Canadians at the bar who had been traveling through Spain since January (and we discovered we’d be in Paris at the same time next month). We took selfies and group pictures and I stayed out way past my bedtime. 

Yes, I realize there were potential dangers of me choosing to go out with these guys. My message here isn't to be reckless and ignore any voice of caution (so don’t go to Europe and be a complete moron and then try to sue me when things go wrong). My point is simply that at the end of it all, had I only listened to the paranoid voices,  I would have missed out on such a fun night. I made new friends from across the globe. I got to experience nightlife in Barcelona like I had hoped to. And on top of it all, my family ended up being locked out of our flat and didn't get back inside until after 3am, so I would have missed the fun AND been been miserable.   

So be smart. Use your head, and trust your gut. And when it tells you to be open to a new adventure, I hope that you'll say yes.