Playground Justice

As a child, you could say I had an overdeveloped sense of justice.  I was intentional about finishing my classwork at school very quickly.  While my peers completed their work, I designated myself to be a rule- enforcing deputy of sorts.  I would observe if my classmates took short cuts in their exercises, if their eyes wandered to the work of their neighbors, and how well they cared for their textbooks and other school issued materials.  I had opinions on how everything ought to be done and rarely was satisfied with the efforts of those around me.  I thought I had all the answers, and my age hadn't even crossed into the double digits!

On one occasion, I took on the class bully.  A towheaded boy who was lean except for a little round belly, Chris was known for his rebellious behavior.  He back talked teachers and lunch monitors, took recess more seriously than any lesson in grammar, and had a reputation for picking fights.  Chris was not afraid to do what he wanted whenever he wanted.  One afternoon, my class was lining up to go inside from the playground.  I noticed Chris had cut in line; this was an unforgivable offense and I was swift to correct him.  I grabbed his shoulder from behind, and righteously declared, "You can't cut! Go to the back of the line!"  Before I knew it, he had grabbed my right hand and began to swing me around in a circle.  He released me just as quickly as he grabbed me, and my bare knees and hands skidded across the blacktop.  I had underestimated Chris's knowledge of physical science; apparently, he had learned a lesson on centripetal force from the WWF.

To add insult to injury (literally, as I had been bloodied by my opponent), I was sent to the principal's office as the instigator of the fight.  I was no different than my rule breaking foe in the eyes of the law.  I attempted to appeal to the principal's reason; I was an honorable citizen upholding the law of the land when no one else would.  She didn't see it that way, and my mom was called in for a parent-teacher conference to discuss my disobedience.  I was punished and felt a tremendous amount of chagrin (well, as much as a 3rd grader can feel...).

Ah, but the story didn't end there.  As dorky and obnoxious as a must have been, somehow I managed to become a favorite pupil to my 3rd grade teacher.  Knowing my character, as well as Chris's, Mrs. Reidy came to my rescue.  She sang my praises to my mother and suggested that I needn't be punished so harshly since it was my first major offense.  With that, my mom canceled my sentence to be grounded, and I repented from being an elementary despot (like a tiny Tracy Flick).

Thank goodness my little and big sister survived my unwarranted tyranny.

 A couple of entries ago, I shared with you how my passion for politics trumped my pursuit of God.  Now that I'm older, wiser, and so much more mature (giggle now, if you must), I could tell my worldview was missing one major element: GRACE.  Without my relationship with God, I fear I may have spent the better part of my life as an adherent to tough justice and unforgiveness.

I was recently listening to the Bible Study Hour with Dr. James Boice.  He taught on the parable of the unmerciful servant (here's a link to Dr. Boice's message).  This story is about a man who won’t forgive a small debt, even after his own huge debt has been forgiven.  I found similarities with this parable in my own childhood story.  My third grade teacher showed me mercy even after I had been quick to judge my fellow classmate.  As an adult, I must confront this nasty knack to be critical and seek to show grace to others.  Just as the master said, "Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?", I can hear God asking me, "Leah, shouldn't you have mercy on your husband, neighbor, child, friend, cashier, family member, fellow drivers, etc just as I had on you?"  When I reflect on all the things in my life that God has forgiven, how can I not look compassionately on those around me?  It's thanks to God that my eyes were opened.

I want to leave you with a verse from a great Biblical book on justice.  Micah wrote:

And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? 

(Micah 6:8)

Funny Story....

So last month Kyle and I went to North Carolina to visit his family for the 4th of July.  We had a really fun time playing in the sun with friends.  It's always good to be there and enjoy time on boats (I skipped the ski boat this trip and only boarded the very smooth riding pontoon boat).  Boat time always leads to a little recreational activity.  Some of you may know that Kyle is exceptional at wakeboarding.  Here's a sampling of his skills...

...that is, his skills about 5 years ago.  Not to say he's not a fit and athletic fella now; he's just more of a runner & weightlifter these days.  He just hasn't be tugged behind a boat very much the last couple of years.  Well, he went out on the water with a few friends to see what he could still do while I opted for a mid-afternoon nap (sun + pregnancy = one highly fatigued lady).  As Kyle was heading out, I asked him to be careful and jokingly said, "Don't break your leg."

Four weeks later, what does this story have to do with anything?  Kyle had a sore ankle after his day of wakeboarding, but it didn't seem serious.  He's been training for a half-marathon with some co-workers running several times a week (he's hardcore~ tempo runs, hill sprints, 8 mile runs in summer heat, etc).  That little ankle has just been giving him trouble on and off for the whole month of July.  After some encouragement/nudging by a few folks, he finally went to the doctor to see what was going on last Friday.  My sweet husband discovered he has a fractured ankle.

Check out that boot and those crutches...

So now neither Hamilton is functioning at 100%.  Now I certainly thought at 38 weeks Kyle would be waiting on me hand and foot, but as Michael Scott says, "Oh how the turn tables...."  So if yall are the praying types, we could use it for fast healing for Kyle.  He gets MRI results on Wednesday, and I'll keep you posted on how we weather the next couple of weeks as Ham #3 joins us.

Kyle was a bit bummed that he got hurt wakeboarding since he was once so strong and good at it.  His spirits were boosted though by an impressed co-worker who couldn't believe Kyle was doing long distance runs on a broken ankle.  This man bowed to Kyle's manly testosterone.  I just hope this doesn't encourage him to get too manly before he has fully recovered.

Les Désastreuses aventures de la famille Hamilton

We departed from Rome with no problems and arrived in sunny Sardinia.  From this point, our adventure felt more like a romantic comedy where everything goes wrong.  I'll recount our troubled tale, but hopefully I'll still be able to communicate how much fun we had and what a bonding experience this trip became. We rented a little Smart car for fun and headed to our B&B to check in.

Oh no!  We flew past our destination!

Our place was out in the middle of nowhere.  The roads were lonely and wide; there was sandy orange stone and  tufts of dry grass for miles. The owner of the B&B, Graziano, was thoroughly delightful.... but we had no common language.  Thankfully all my studies of Latin-based tongue paid off; somehow we deduced how much we owed him and that there is no breakfast in September with mixed French, Spanish, and Italian.  So I guess you can say we stayed in a B&.  He also helped us find a restaurant nearby for dinner.  Since we were hungry, we tossed our bags in the room and went straight to the local pizza place.  We ordered a delicious plate of local cheeses and charcuterie (heavily influenced by the boars on the island~they make a delicious sausage).   We sampled some island brews (beer, not coffee), and ate a ridiculous amount of pizza.  We did all of this in the dark.  For some reason, the power kept going out at the restaurant.  Thank goodness we were in Italy where all good pizza is perfectly baked in wood burning ovens.

ichnusa is ichtasty

Not exactly a candlelit dinner... those are the flood lights that prevented us from depending solely on the moon.

We had some good plans for day 2 in Sardinia.  We got up to take a jog and discovered that we were stationed in the midst of a large neighborhood of vineyards.  It seems the harvest had already begun as many of the workers in the fields seemed puzzled by the two English speakers running by their rural workplace.  I could jog that little area everyday and be quite content.  We then set out to do a little exploration by car and try to take a peak at Neptune's Grotto.

Glorious grapes!

We (read: I) didn't wear appropriate shoes to explore Neptune's Grotto. 

There is not a bad picture taken on this island.  Not possible.

Our trusty tiny car~ I look like a giant!

Don't you want to go for a dip?

For the afternoon we were set to take a ferry from a nearby port to Corsica.  When we arrived at the dock for our ferry, we found it was not meant to be.  You'd have to have been living under a rock to have missed the incredible number of strikes which have occurred throughout France the last couple of months.  On this particular day, all French transportation workers were all for la greve.  This even included French ferry navigators who work between the Italian & French islands.  I was distraught, but Kyle had the presence of mind to get a refund on our tickets and patronize an Italian company who had not abandoned their boat posts.  This meant a later ferry from another port farther north on the coast.  Thus we had to mix up our hotel arrangements as we'd be arriving in the evening 3 hours away from our hotel.  Kyle took care of it all; he is so patient.  We drove to port #2 for the day and had enough time for a cappuccino before our departure.  Kyle's phone rang with an unknown number.  The new hotel he booked for the night didn't actually have any rooms available.  *sigh*  We hunted down an internet cafe and found another hotel to book so that we wouldn't have to sleep in the Smart car on our European honeymoon.  Thankfully for the rest of this day, everything went smoothly.

A floating parking lot!  Seriously, "ferry" doesn't seem to adequately describe what this machine can do.

Corsica~we've arrived.

We were back in France!  Something about traveling to exotic places yet still being able to communicate is a great comfort.  Corsica looks very similar to Sardinia, but it felt great to be back among the French.  Sadly, we woke up to a cool, rainy gray day.  Just when we thought we could enjoy a day at the beach...  Alas, that doesn't spoil our fun.  We went out and got coffee and ice cream for lunch then went for a good walk at the beach where we found such delightful treasures.

Out of the rain with a lovely view

...and who needs sunshine?

This little number is supposed to be a Corsican specialty.  They are made with chestnut flour but aren't the most delish.

We explored rocky paths and took crooked self-timed photos....

...saw wind surfers....

...and kite surfers....

... and found a cat!

Kyle even liked her.  He named her Suity (pronounced sweetie) because it's like the French word to follow.  That's what she did; she followed us.

Sometimes we followed her.

We also enjoyed a Corsican beer.  This is Kyle's artsy picture.  A good day was had by all.

The rain couldn't be the only thing to thwart us this day~that would have been too simple.  We got a call from America; my dad called to let us know we needed to change our flight plans because our day was filling up quick.  We were set to return back to the U.S. in less than a week so it meant rearranging our plans for moving out of our dorm and saying farewell to friends in Metz.  Again, Kyle masterfully filled all the gaps, and we went back to enjoying our honeymoon trip.

We had been staying in Bonifacio which has so much to see.  There are beaches, the beautiful port, tons of great restaurants, and plenty of shopping.  All of this exists in what feels like two cities~the upper and the lower.  We had only spent time in the lower part because it was easy to walk to from our hotel.  We spent our second day in town exploring the upper level.  

It was chilly but totally worth an uphill hike.

What a place for Christians to worship.  I'm struggling with coveting...

Homes on the hill

Crazy curvy port

Kyle went all out on our next stop~a breathtaking B&B (with breakfast in September) in Porto Vecchio.  I wish we had stayed there from the day we departed from Rome.  In addition to staying in the most gorgeous place ever, the sun finally came out and we could finally go to the beach!  We soaked in a lot of sun, read a lot, and enjoyed a Corsican beer.  I do have to note that it was a bit windy~  or maybe it was terribly windy.  Not a bad thing on a warm day, but it is definitely unpleasant to be pelted by stinging sand at the beach.  We found sanctuary from the grainy assault behind some large beach rocks.  No problems.  For dinner we went to a really cool restaurant where the menu changed each day based on what the chef was interested in cooking and what was available at the market.  The menu was written on a large chalkboard that the waitress carried from table to table for patrons to make their selection.  Kyle and I opted to get an appetizer and entree to split.  It wasn't until we were about to enjoy our kirs when we noticed some small print on the chalkboard~ non CB (meaning no credit/debit cards).  Yet again we were in a pickle as we had a very small amount of cash on us.  We were about to pay for our drinks and depart when the waitress insisted that we could eat today and pay tomorrow.   I felt like Wimpy from Popeye~ "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for delicious shrimp pasta dish today."  Crisis averted (though we went to an ATM after dinner to pay for the lovely meal~ not a quick task when the closest ATM was a 30 minute drive away... crazy island life).

My bud + books + beer + beach = best day ever

Since you can't photograph the wind, you can at least show it's violent wake.  Exhibit A: restaurant sign knocked over covered in sand.

Ah, who cares about the wind?

This B&B was my favorite.  Can you believe that's our view?

Breakfast~the word alone inspires happiness.  French breakfasts are usually yogurt, baguette, fresh butter and jam, orange juice, and plenty of coffee.  Simple bliss!  We got a little something extra with our breakfast~ bad news.  We have ventured into the absurd with vacation obstacles at this point.  That wind I mentioned yesterday was none other than the legendary and terrifying Mistral.  I had learned about it in my French culture class and how it wreaks havoc all over Provence.  Never in a million years would I expect it to interrupt our trip to an island in the sun.  The lady who owned the B&B informed us no ferries would be braving the waters for a few days because it's too dangerous with the winds.  No kidding~these natural ports are surrounded by imposing rocky cliffs.  For Kyle and me, we knew we were trapped.  Here we had an Italian Smart car which had to be returned to the airport in Sardinia as well as a serious deadline to be back to Metz for moving out and then Paris to fly back to the U.S.  Like, this was Sunday and we were going to fly back to the states on Wednesday.  Cutting it a little close, I'd say.  Just to make sure we knew how seriously impossible it'd be to leave the island, the wind decided to kick it up a notch.  We stayed in our beautiful room all day long and read in bed.  I've never seen or heard anything like it, but now I truly know the fear the 3 little pigs must have felt.

After many prayers and not the most restful night of sleep, we drove to the port in the hopes that the ferry would arrive and carry us and our tiny Smart car back to Italian soil.  We waited~ no one at the port knew definitively whether or not it would make the crossing.  The clock kept ticking; our departure time came and went.  Then. We. Heard. The. Fateful. Sound. Of. A. FOGHORN!!  A large ferry came into the port, unloaded it's cargo and passengers, and it was our turn to board!  They couldn't have dragged us off that boat if it were on fire~we were going back to Italy.  We had a long ride back and met some lovely Canadians who were retired teachers (all French speakers).  Back in Santa Teresa, we drove the car back onto solid Italian ground and happily set out to Castelsardo where we would stay one more night before returning home.

Let me on that boat!

We're all aboard and headed back to Sardinia.

Adieu Corsica.

Kyle again chose a beautiful place for us to stay, and the only hiccup we faced in this town was that many restaurants weren't open on Monday for dinner.  No biggie.  We loved our last day on the island~a great breakfast, beautiful weather, great conversations, lots of thank you prayers to God, and the best way to bid farewell to Europe.  It was just the best to get a week of time with just Kyle without any obligations to just be together and reflect on the incredible year we shared in France.

No complaints here.

A little poolside sunbathing before our flight.  Farewell, paradise.

Best moment of the trip?  You see a small house in the middle of nowhere with the word "formaggi" painted on the side.  You say to yourself, "Self, it says cheese, but does it mean there is cheese within?"  Well, I have a bold husband who has a weakness for pecorino romano....

Would you be tempted to enter?

This is how much cheese you can get for 7 euros.  No knives, just spoons.