Speculoos

If you hang around me long enough, you will hear me talk of Speculoos. It won't take long until I bring up my favorite Belgian-discovered treat, and I usually end up professing my love of Speculoos, not merely talking about it. I don't talk about my favorite chocolate bar (Lion Bar, found only in Europe) in the same way that I do about Speculoos. What puts Speculoos on such a high pedestal?

Before moving on, you should know something about me (if you don't already): I am incredibly sentimental. I attach a memory to just about anything - food, drink, person, song, clothes, random inanimate object, CrossFit movement - and like a little elephant, I don't forget that memory. Play the song "I'll Be Your Crying Shoulder" by Goo Goo Dolls and I'll tell you the story of how my roommate and I knew that we were meant to be friends. Show me a hockey puck and I automatically think back to the time I took a road trip with four hockey guys from Miami to watch a UFC fight in Columbus, Ohio during my spring break senior year. Venison reminds me of Dublin, Canadian flags of Italy, and French restaurants of the time I got lost in Frankfurt by myself coming home from a Christmas Market.

Back to Speculoos vs. Lion Bars. The first time that I ever traveled abroad, I went to the UK for three weeks and discovered Lion Bars. I tie Lion Bars back to the moment where I finally flew out of my little cage and didn't look back. It was a wonderful trip and therefore, Lion Bars are a wonderful reminder of that adventure. But at the end of the day, while my first time breaking out of my cage was incredible, it was missing something. I have since walked the streets of London and Dublin, and I think back to me. It ended with me, my happiness, my experience.

But when I think of Speculoos, I don't think back to just me; I think of God. Speculoos is distinctly Belgian in my mind, specific to the region of Belgium (the Dutch-speaking Flanders) where we spend a majority of our time. When I eat a spoonful of Speculoos, I remember the hostel where we hold our daily morning quiet time; cook meals with new friends from all over the globe; have conversations about God; live in Biblical community with a team of new brothers- and sisters-in-Christ that we just met. When I spread Speculoos on fruit, I think back to all of the lunches that I packed to keep me full at various track & field meets, meeting athletes from all over Europe (and Asia!) and sharing the Gospel with them. And when I get a particularly crunchy spoonful of Speculoos, I think back to the nightly Speculoos ice cream runs that we made after dinner, spending quality time as a little team. Speculoos, unlike Lion Bars, invokes memories that do not end on me, rather on God. Through a spoonful (or eight) of Speculoos, He reminds me of the adventure that He is allowing me to have, that He is calling me to join the fun and adventure, of the Great Commission.

When I started having strange reactions to flour/gluten in July of 2011, I had to give up Speculoos. I played around with my diet and came to the conclusion that I was sensitive to gluten. For a year and a half, I didn't touch anything with gluten in it. And during that same year and a half, the Lord asked me to walk away from Belgium and the memories that I had made. I operated as if the next time I would see Speculoos would be in heaven at the Wedding Feast. I mourned Belgium and I mourned Speculoos. But God, in His goodness, gave me back both Belgium and Speculoos. He is letting me return to Belgium and I can eat gluten (just not rye) without issue. The fast is broken, and the celebration has begun!

Spring

Today, February 6th, 2013, marks the exiting from a one year period of a season that can only be named "Winter".

This past season of Winter was a hard one. Granted, my only experiences of a harsh winter have come through books (the Little House on the Prairie series) or my four years at Miami (OH), so I know that I may not be the best judge. But, as a Texas girl, anything that isn't 40* and sunny in January is a bit harsh in my book.

The Lord has been speaking to me that Spring is next."Spring," I kept hearing, "Spring is coming." That was in January, and so I expected January to bring with it Spring. But it never came. All that came was a two day flu and an eight day sinus infection. "Soon, very soon," followed after the bout of illness. Again, it wasn't Spring; this time it was the smashing into tiny pieces two very large idols that had formed in my heart - the idol of having roots here in Dallas and the idol of ever separating from my dear friends. Praise God that He is a jealous God that will not have His beloved children chasing after temporary pleasures and fleeting happiness. He is a God who wants us to experience joy, deep and everlasting joy. But smashing idols is a messy and painful business, not Spring.

But now Spring is here. I don't know what Spring will look like, but Spring is here. And that means a time to thaw out after the hard freezes of Winter. Seeds are planted in the springtime, and what looked dead is suddenly bursting forth and flowering with new life. It is a time to tend the gardens, protect the lambs, and begin again.

My prayer is that Belgium (and the rest of the post-Christian western Europe) would experience Spring. I want the seeds that have been planted to take root and explode. I want the so-called (and accurately named) dead churches to be brought back to life. I want to see the part of the world that birthed so many wonderful theologians and missionaries impact the world again as it did in the past.

Spring has sprung.