Life on the Run

I've been running in the mornings lately.

Now, this might not be big news to you.
You might be thinking, "good for her. She probably needs to work off some of that pasta/pizza/gelato/etc."

And you would be right.
But that's not the problem.

When I run I think.
Ah, yes, the pensive jogger.
That would be me.

I like to think that I run slow because my brain is working overtime.
I also like to making myself feel better about my turtle-like pace.

So, during these chilly mornings in the Cascine (park pictured above), as every possible stereotype of Italian culture passes my way, I think.

I think not only about the little old ladies that hook arms and stroll, or the pumped up jock who's shorts are way to tight, or the scores of people riding bikes and talking on their cellphones at the same time, or the adorable families pushing their "prams" and looking totally Euro, I think about me and the fact that I'm in Italy.

Sometimes it doesn't sink in the first time.
Let's try again.

I'm in Italy.

What the heck?!

Life is so weird.

I ride trains. I pay with colorful Euros.
I exist between two languages.
I have a bus pass, a winnie-the-pooh phone charm, and I wear boots all the time.
I see the Duomo every day. I make fun of tourists.
I have been proposed to twice. (I refused both times.)
I drink coffee at least three times a day.
I use clothes pins for their intended purpose.
I use a plastic glove to pick out my produce and I pay for my grocery bags.
I don't have air conditioning or a microwave or a dryer--and I'm fine.
My apartment is older than the United States.
My morning run is along the Arno.

It's a lot to take in.

Not to mention trying to share the Gospel in a different language.

Sometimes this living in Italy stuff is really hard.
I walk away from campus most days totally defeated.

Where are you Lord?
Are you at these impossible faculties?

Why can't I speak Italian?
Are my hand motions and expressive noises making any difference?

Use me Lord. Use the weak things to shame the wise.

Jesus, reclaim these hearts. These lives.


Not every tourist makes a point to see the Cascine.
But I highly recommend it to anyone who needs space to think, to listen, and to hear.
In the middle of this city, in the middle of this darkness,
it's my oasis.