Can you age a year in a week?

That is all that it has been. One week.

One week since I arrived on a plane in Stuttgart, having a cold drizzle welcome me to my new home in Germany. One week since I said goodbye to my friends, family, and way of living in the States. One week since I was staring up at the ceiling of a plane, wondering what God was doing with taking this guy through such an adventure.

And honestly, I still wonder.

One week in, I have learned a lot of things… I’ve learned how to order a pretzel from a bakery, I’ve learned how to catch the right bus from the Hauptbahnhof, and I’ve learned that I will probably never be able to say the word for Squirrel in German (Eichhörnchen). However, among the things I’ve learned is one of those rare moments of self-understanding where you see deep into your soul.

You see, others may be fooled by my outward appearance, but I know even more deeply than before that I do not have the heart of an adventurer. I do not get my kicks off of new. Opposite. I like steadiness, or maybe steadiness that is periodically augmented. And yet, this adventure that I am thrown into is one of seemingly perpetual newness.

Don’t get me wrong, there is so much beauty around me right now. There is so much that is good and wonderful about Germany and German culture. Sights. Smells. Colors. Textures. People. You’ll hear about these things from me ad nauseam in coming weeks and months. But as I spend my days struggling to make strange sounds with new meanings come from my mouth, I become aware of how this is not a task that is born from my own heart.

I know why I am here. And yet, I don’t know why I am here. I know that this is where I am supposed to be and that hundreds of others have sacrificed greatly to join me in joining where God has so obviously directed me. I know more deeply than ever the importance of what Unterwegs (our student group) is doing and how privileged I am to be a part of it. I know this is good.

One week in, however, the questions I asked the ceiling of the plane linger still. I wonder what God is doing taking this guy on this journey. How is it that the story being written in me and the story being written in Germany are going to mesh?

I know this: I’m changing. I feel older. Those are the best words I have for it. There is something that is rooting itself inside me… and I don’t know what it will look like when it breaks through the surface, but I’m pretty sure it’s wrapped up in what God’s trying to do.

I suppose it’s still becoming. That’s probably the point, huh?

Still Wandering,

Tony