Aren't we all (Part 1)

The MAX

I find that when I go to a new place I'm desperately searching for something familiar.  Something that gives me a sense of place.  Belonging.  Home.  For me, it was seeing the signs for the Max.  The comfort this provides has nothing to do with Mark-Paul Gosselaar or Lark Voorhies.  Seeing this closed (for the day) burger stand in the airport lobby reminded me of my Sweden team, in particular - Elizabeth Rummel, Bo and Cal Brickle, Bobby Wilund, Samuel Arlebrant, and Rustin McAlister.  It was as if someone said, "You're not a total stranger here." As my trip down memory lane started to pick up speed, in the blink of an eye I was snickering under my breath about the Swedish cattle and their polite way of speaking, Lion King references, less than delicious Max burgers, swimming above the arctic circle, Oscar the Swede, midnight volleyball with locals and many other memories.

They were only moments, but sometimes a moment is all you need.  

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[Before I continue, it is worth noting that at this point in our trip I haven't slept for more than 2.5 hours in the last 36]  Our driver met us in the main hallway of the terminal.  It was clean, quiet and small as I had come to expect. As I looked out the windows of the terminal everything seemed incredibly bright, almost as bright as when you wake up before the sun in wintertime, stumbling into the bathroom and in one half-awake, thoughtless movement you turn on the lights, nearly falling back into the wall, wholly unprepared for the jolt of lumens filling your still sleepy retinas.

Christopher Plummer

Werner Herzog

As we approached the driver, he held up a sign that said, "Willis."  This is the first time I've ever had anything like that - it's amazing how little is required to make someone feel important.  He was kindly and tall (this is apparently a marked trait that Swedes have cornered - being tall and kind).  He reminded me of a mixture between two actors, Werner Herzog and Christopher Plummer (Baron Von Trapp).


While our driver played trunk Tetris, pondering how to fit all our luggage in the taxi, I shuffled my sleep-deprived wife and son to their seats and took my own seat in the front next to our driver.  Our congenial driver buckled up and confirmed the destination address, and with that we were off. Driving unimpeded through the outer boundaries of the Stockholm, for a short few moments Jeremy was cracking us up looking cute and alert taking everything in as we drove, but it wasn't long before he was asleep.  Similarly, Misti interjected a few sentences into the conversation engaging in the time-honored tradition of awkwardly carrying on forced small talk with people we will likely never come into contact with again.  I remember sitting in my seat thoroughly impressed with my wife's level of engagement, I thought, "Wow, She must really be excited for this adventure.  She's such an awesome woman!  I never imagined that she would be able to make it this long without falling asleep.  Honestly, she's like super woman, to fight through what I know must be an unbelievable desire to lay her head on that seat back and just sleep all so she can fully immersed in every aspect of this trip, I think i'm going to tell her how impressed I..."  then I looked back and saw her out cold - mouth agape.  Looking at her, I was reminded, "My bride is beautiful."

Some days her elegant beauty is more conspicuous than others - today is one of those days... sound asleep.  She is always there and yet there is always something unexpected, unpredictable about her.  It hits in these moments, in waves as though the wheels of time ran through thick mud and slowed down to a crawl - caught in a stare that seems to last an eternity.  Her loveliness is unintentional, it's not contrived or preconceived... it's just who she is, she's lovely.  I guess that's one of the true joys of marriage, it's constant newness - I see her anew every day and it's never a disappointment.  Life with her isn't boring or mundane, it's rich and vibrant.  I never have to wait with a romantic comedy like anticipation for the next arbitrary encounter like Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan (i.e. You've Got Mail or Sleepless In Seattle.)  I experience her every day, good and bad; sickness and in health; till death do us part... and my heart is blessed for it.

I love seeing my wife.

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The drive from the airport is mesmerizing.  Granite outcroppings of stone litter the side of the road, solid walls rising and falling as we drive.  Their dull grey blackness punctuated by the emerald green grass interspersed throughout.  It was almost as if the boulders were reaching up through slits in the carpet of grass to welcome us to the most glorious city as we wind through the serpentine streets of the outer belt.

The road snaked around the rocks as if it's design was conscious of every stone and crag.  The designers seemed to treat the rocks less as obstacles to be overcome and more as individual statues, meant to be admired from every angle.  These highways flowed with the rising undulations of the land, countless rivers and neighborhoods that predate vehicles.  They are somehow smooth, clearly marked and a welcomed addition to the natural landscape.  Don't get me wrong Stockholm has interstates (or the equivalent) and lots of them - long, unexciting highways stretching north to south and east to west. But I'm thankful our driver took us another way... a way that allowed us to more deeply appreciate the natural comeliness of this country.

As the volvo wound through the outskirts of Stockholm and Misti snoozed in the backseat, I did my best to engage in dialogue with my new friend (to be perfectly honest, I'm only calling him my "new friend" because I can't remember his name).  In my defense, I rarely remember anyone's name.  I have equal opportunity forgetfulness.  This is generally problematic when it comes to sharing the Gospel or just generally not looking like a jerk; sadly, my brain seems to disagree with this most general assessment.  Knowing my penchant for near instantaneous namenesia, I have to work doubly hard to make sure that conversations I engage in are well thought out.  I like to think through the the things that are of interest to the person I talk to because while I may not remember their name I'll never forget the circumstances that surrounded our meeting.  This trip would be no different.  I did some research about Sweden and its place in the world at large.  But even more so, I wanted to know the issues that Swedes are quietly dealing with, the things they're proud of, and the things they secretly despise.  

The conversation that ensued, took us down a rabbit hole that I was more than happy to chase him into and eventually became a very insightful picture of the Swedish soul - "What do we do with Immigration now?  How much longer can this be sustained?"  

But more on that in Part 2 of this blog...