jamie's wanderings

 Last week, the little family from the East and I looked at an apartment, and for 6 days the owners hemmed and hawed about if they were going to help a family in distress or not. The answer finally came, no. I put out feelers, distress SOS, someone I've only spoken to on the phone in smooth Granada Spanish in a deep voice sent me a voice message, Jamie, call Maria Angeles, she's got a place. The little family of four, and myself found ourselves yesterday on the sidewalk outside a tall building. Good location, lots of shops, cafes, bars, parks, buses and metro. 15 minutes walk to the cafe they are running. And before the family joined us, I knew the owner was open to having immigrants. We saw the flat, 2 baths, 4 bedrooms, big living room and a little balcony/terrace to stretch out in after a long day of running the cafe. Heat to keep them warm, aircon to cool, not as much light as would be nice, but everything was well kept. I knew it was theirs when Maria Angeles said, do you ...

 One of the amazing things of growing up as an adult here in Spain, is the two points of view that I'm granted. I'm from one world, but since I was 26 years old, I have lived in another. I live with two Jamies, one that speaks Spanish a little accented one way and another depending on my feelings, sometimes all day long, and another one that speaks clipped Chicago English, especially after I've been on the phone with my brother. I have two points of view and sometimes they don't always live happily together. But one thing that remains steadfast, is that I believe. I believe in God, what we call the mystery that we can only view as a mound that is covered by by a large blanket. I believe He loves us so much, He sent His son to make things simple to us stupid people. But we are also created in His image and to love Him is to love those around us. The immigrant, for one. I've been one, and technically I still am a long term resident of a country I pay taxes and social ...

 The last two weeks have been like seeing a car accident every morning and not being able to look away. Andrew and I have a new house rule, no speaking of current political events until we both have coffee in our hands in the morning. We find ourselves reading, talking, disecting and wondering at what is going to happen next. Someone wrote on their wall on Facebook that they had interacted with AI about the teachings of Jesus and if they were compatible with Christian Nationalism. AI said no. I have always been deeply facinated with politics. My Juinor year of high school, we did video school (before online stuff existed) and my civics class was fascinating as we learned about how the US government worked. The teacher was passionate about the subject and we who watched it became intrigued as well. But the longer I live, and live away from the US, the less I understand. I told a client yesterday that it used to be a law that the Brits weren't permitted to vote after living 15 years ...

 Someone confessed to me last night, I used to be a youth pastor. I responded with, Me too. And we swapped a few details and didn't really need to say much, even though as I do, I probably said too much, because it wasn't needed and we saw each other. Something to the effect of, how could the church have so many empty rooms 99% of the time while the homeless underneath the very sign went without love and help? After the conversation I cried. Yet again. As Uncle Peter says, the plot sickens. I could go on and on about former classmates who went out guns ablazing into the mision field. And got kicked out, run out, burnt out. Or like I heard last week, yet another pastor friend of mine quit. Nothing immoral, nothing really wrong, but no one could agree and he said, this isn't the Gospel I was taught and preach, and left. So many of us have gone, left, faded into the wordwork, pivoted, changed, reinvented ourselves. Walked away. The current lingo is, deconstructed. Some merely ...

This weeks writing has been more focused in an end of the year, thanksgiving note to those that pray and still financiall support us. The list of the former has dwindeled over the years, but it still important nonetheless. Here is a bit that I wrote, not all but some. Yesterday, Andrew took his scooter over to the hospital next door and sat with Sarah, an English widow who hires Andrew to translate for her and her doctors during her medical visits for a chronic disease. After experiencing a number of health crisis in the last month, Andrew spent two hours with her and her doctors to arrange meds, treatment and tests. Afterwards they had a coffee and talked at length. She has had some difficult health and personal issues lately and to thank us for our support and help, she gave us a little holiday package of chocolates and a beautiful card. Later that afternoon, I drove up to visit an elderly English man, who is now confined to a wheelchair. He has lived and worked all over the world, a...

 This week is one fraught with emotion, between the events in Valencia last week of super mega flash floods to the Day that is Today, most awaited US elections. Just writing that sentence above felt heavy. One week ago, the heaven opened up and the storm system called Gota Fria, or cold drop, let over 19 inches of rain to fall in just moments in the Valencia regions. We had much less, perhaps 3 or 4 inches, and as my friend pointed out, we proved the saying, The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain. Since Granada is bumped up against the Sierra Nevada mountain range, and is surrounded by 4 rivers, we watched it all go past us. But in Valencia, it overwhelmingly flash flooded in a way that caught everyone flat footed. Mud, sticks, cars and trucks floated by as if they were toys, and people screamed and cried and terror. Now that the mud has settled, over 850,000 people and 69 different towns and villages have been affected by this horrible act. Worse than this, before the rain ha...

 Andrew and I watch a lot of varied movies, sci fi, drama, action, you name it, we like a lot of it. But I'm reluctant to watch certain genres, horror and some kinds of suspense, as I'm sensitive and have nightmares. Andrew and Sofi have gotten me to step out in the last few days as they claim they need some more scarier movies in their lives, and I've boldly gone where I've not really gone before. Much as I'd hate to admit it, I've actually found it very cathartic and enjoyable in a very different way. We watched, the three of us, the Night of the Living Dead. The ending I was unhappy about, but the cinematography, the fascination that in 1968 there was an amaing African American male lead, and also that this was filmed in Butler county, where my mom and her sisters grew up, and where my grandparents are now buried. The house felt like my great grandmothers house and it felt like a familiar area in so many ways, that I found myself engrossed in yes, even classi...