Taylyr Talk: July 2016

Dear friends,

I know so many of you have been waiting for this post and I'm sorry I've kept you in suspense for so long.

My trip to Norway came with so many unexpected things, as well as many other things I've always heard comes with mission trips. I went to Norway with a broken heart. The reasoning for this will not be said, but it made for a difficult start. There was a time about three days before we were to depart that I wondered if I really wanted to go on this trip. Doubts flew around in my mind and kept me awake for the last couple nights of being in New Mexico. Even though I pondered it, the thought that I would later regret not going kept me quiet and moving forward.

At the airport, I said good-bye to America for the time being and boarded a plane to a totally different country with only being really acquainted with one teammate. Anyone who has gone on a mission trip knowing only one to none of your teammates knows that this can further any already existing fears. You're handing out your trust to people you've met maybe only once or twice before. In this case, I had only met most of my team twice, and both times briefly or with little interaction. (I will acknowledge that this wasn't always because of circumstance. I did have some part in the not talking.)

We had four flights that I recall. Two within the U.S. and two outside of it. All felt long, but more because of limited mobility than time. I sat in the middle of two people for all but one flight. I drank a lot of coffee (no surprise to those who know me) and spent a lot of time overthinking. Overthinking is a special talent of mine. When we landed in Oslo, we had to go through the exciting experience of getting our passports stamped! I actually was very excited for this. I walked up to the window expecting an easy list of questions and quick passage, as I had seen other people do before me. Instead, the fact that I appeared to be a female American traveling alone brought about an unexpected suspicion. I was asked how long I would be staying (10 days), why I was here (I was told to say vacation), where was I going (Trondheim), and was I traveling alone (no, my group was scattered in front and behind me). At this last answer, the woman looked at me and asked if I was with a church group. I answered yes. Where was I staying? With people in the church. Were we getting paid to come? No! She paused and seemed to size me up. All of a sudden I was nervous by the idea that I may not be allowed to enter the country past that point. Finally, she stamped my passport and I went through the glass doors that welcomed me to Norway. I rejoined my group to find out that I was the only one who had gone through such scrutiny! We looked all around us at the funny words on the signs (parkering instead of parking) and tried to figure out the money system in our heads. We found food, most of us exchanged money by doing so (we all sat eating and staring at the currency that we agreed was much cooler and prettier than our American money), and sat until we boarded our last flight.

Once we landed in Trondheim, we came out of the terminal to see fog and rain. Two of my team members, who had been to Trondheim the year before, had told us that this was how the weather was for them last year, also. We found our suitcases and our rides. On the way to the Pastor/Missionary's home, we were awed by all the green! (Anyone who has ever been to Portales, New Mexico will know why.) We found out from our driver that three months out of the year is summer (lots of rain) and then the rest of the year is pretty much winter (lots of snow). We also were told that Norway has one of the highest numbers for suicides. This has been said to be because of the months of all day darkness. We happened to come during the months of 24/7 light.

That night we had salmon (we would have much more in the next 10 days) and learned more specifics of what we would be doing during our time there. I personally couldn't stop looking outside. One thing I noticed about every house I stepped into in Norway was that they all had huge windows in at least the dining and living rooms. Also, you had to take your shoes off before going into the houses.

Sleeping that first night wasn't hard, despite the light. I hadn't slept much during the flights and we had all been told to bring sleeping masks to block out the light. I went to bed that first night having no idea what was to come for me emotionally, spiritually, and mentally in the days to come.

Some people hear of these short-term mission trips and don't expect a person to come back changed. How could anyone be that impacted in such a short time? Trust me, it can not only be done, but it happened to me. Amongst all the building, painting, socializing, painted smiles, etc. I struggled with all the pain and heart ache I had brought with me. I couldn't seem to put down and unpack all the extra baggage I had brought with me. One of the other team members told me during this trip that he never saw me unhappy. I always had a smile on my face. I laughed because during most of the trip I had spiritual warfare happening in my heart and mind that I never anticipated.

This trip started a road of true healing for me. Healing that I didn't realize I needed. Healing that I probably wouldn't have admitted I needed had I not been where I was.

We built new booths for the upcoming festival. The men got to put their skills to the test and one or two impressed the rest of us. I got to spray paint something for the first time and assembled a balance beam from a box by myself. We did some yard work for the Pastor and his wife (the lawnmower had to be plugged in). We walked/drove around and put flyers inside of mailboxes. Although, some of the mailboxes we weren't allowed to do that because they had stickers that said they didn't want flyers and such (The Norwegian word for no is apparently Nei!). For three nights we had special activities for children hoping to draw in some parents as well. The first night was gymnastic-type obstacles (balance beams, walking through hoola-hoops, etc.), the second was a movie night (Tangled in Norwegian!), and the third was a talent show (some of these kids put our artists here to shame!). We heard mostly songs we knew well from here (lots of Rihanna). The festival came quickly and we helped set up all the booths and then were assigned to a booth. Each booth had one of us and one of the local church members. I felt kind of bad for the guys since they got put into the booth where they got sponges thrown at their faces. I was placed at mini-golf. The festival was open for around 5 hours and then we packed everything up.

One night, we got invited to this woman's house for dinner. Her and her two children (college age and high school age) came from outside of Norway (Africa or Zambia, I think) and moved there when she married. We had pork chops that were so tender they came off the bone as we tried to serve ourselves! I also tried liver for the first time (wasn't bad, but knowing what it was made me gag). We were served so much food that night! We would be done with one round and another would come!

Speaking of food, the main menu where I was staying was:

Breakfast- soft boiled egg (like a hard boiled, only the yolk is runny inside), bread (addicting!), jam, butter, salmon, cheese (their cheese is a light brown, sweet and has a sharp taste), and a fruit.

Lunch- usually sandwich stuff (didn't really differ much from here)

Dinner- varied

No matter what, we had chocolate and coffee at least three times a day. The chocolate is VERY different and I personally like it better than what we have here.

Our sight-seeing day was on the second day of our trip. We went into what looked like a town square, a mall, a gorgeous cathedral, and an old guard tower! In the cathedral, we waited and heard the huge organ inside played. It was amazing! We also went down into catacombs beneath (I was very disappointed to see they weren't like in the movies). The stain glass windows were so beautiful and the outside was so detailed. There were these boxes with sand inside them with candles. You would take a candle, light it, say a prayer, and set it into the sand. There were some parts of the church we weren't allowed to photograph (I never learned why.). We walked a lot and saw many quaint cottage houses. We crossed the bridge that you'll see if you google Trondheim. You know, the one that shows houses along the sides of the river; those houses colourful and the sight as a whole beautiful. It kind of made me think of those illustrations in old children's books. It looked almost like watercolour. That's something else I noticed a lot-every colour seemed more vibrant than in the U.S. It's almost as if something has washed out America and all those colours have run into the ocean and somehow been poured onto cities such as these. The green was a beautiful back drop to flowers whose blues, purples, yellows, etc. would just spring at you. Trees looked wise and enduring as they seemed to be proud of the way they managed to stay where they were despite all the chaos and buildings around them.

The old guard tower made me think of my best friend back home. He would have loved seeing the old cannons and studying the design of the building. I honestly thought it was simply a house on an estate, or something like you'd see out of the American Girl Felicity's world. We walked into this short tunnel, through thick, probably heavy double doors. Coming out of that tunnel, you'd look to the right and see rooms that you'd assume would be storage houses or perhaps slave quarters. I didn't learn what they were having never went closer than that. Looking straight and left, you saw an added café (we people always have to add something to these places), the house looking structure, and all the way around the premises was the top of a high wall with cannons pointed to their outside marks. We could see most of Trondheim from there. The town center, the cathedral, the harbor, all the houses we admired, etc. I looked out and if I wasn't already in love with travel, mission work, and Trondheim-this was where that love was officially born.

We walked up to the house to find that it wasn't technically a house. It could be considered one as one remembers that's soldiers had to live there to keep watch. The tower (as we learned it was called) had three stories that you got to by stairs that were pretty much ladder-like. We couldn't imagine having to run up and down them without breaking your neck! On the first floor was a museum explaining the history of the tower and the people who served in it. On the second and third floors were holes in the sides of the tower where the beautiful cannons pointed. Some parts of the floor was scary to walk on because you could tell they made it more steady and safe, but you could also tell that they didn't rebuild the floor either (which I actually deeply appreciated). The walls were super thick! You could tell by looking at the windows.

I stood outside that guard tower and tried to imagine all the action, chaos, and death that more than likely occurred there. The bark of orders from the one in charge to his troops, the smell of gun powder and cannon residue, the smoke, the quaking ground as they fired and were fired upon….the tears as people were killed-brothers, friends, and team mates. The men they were playing cards with just yesterday were now gone. I would imagine that today's soldiers, airmen, seamen, marines, and coasties can understand this picture. I then walked to the wall, stood by one of the huge cannons, and looked out. I saw this big green area. Families were enjoying the nice day- laughing, yelling, playing, eating… My mind replaced this scene with the yells of the enemy screaming out the orders that could've been those that lead to the death of the man who, back then, stood right where I was. I tried to imagine myself in such a place. The whole thing made my heart swell. For the men who were once there and for each and every person who is and has ever been in our own U.S. Military. For anyone who fights a war for who they love and what they believe in. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to go to my second cousin and tell her that her son didn't die in combat for nothing. I wanted to go to my wonderful grandpa and tell him how much his service was a blessing. I wanted to hug and cry into the arms of my marine best friend back home. I had never felt the sacrifice and loss of so many come into my heart before.

I walked out of that place in reverence.

We kept walking through neighbourhoods to get to the restaurant we would eat. I never minded walking. I mean, I had "trained" for it being a college student without a car. Plus, the views made it not too bad. (We also had to work off all the food we ate every day.) We stopped at this huge tower structure (two towers in one day!). It looked kind of like a radio tower to me. We had to take an elevator all the way up and when we came out all the way around was windows. It was a mix of amazing and terrifying. We were so high that we could see literally ALL of Trondheim and the surrounding area. It wasn't until we were seated at a table that we realized that the room was slowly rotating. It would make a full circle around in an hour. This was so that those eating could slowly see everything while they ate. Although, I think some were more in awe of the taco pizza. The rotation made finding the bathroom confusing since every time we had to go it was in a different place.

The next couple of days we went to work. We all got frustrated at least once, if not openly then silently. We all learned how to do something different (or re-learned how to do it differently). I learned how to spray paint, assemble a boxed item, sand a balance beam, paint, etc. All of these things most people already know how to do, but as we go through different circumstances, teams, leadership, etc. we often have to be ready to be taught them all over again. I mean, how could they know what I could or couldn't do? So, some of this time was being patient, quiet, and lovingly submissive as I was taught a different way to paint and use tools.

I, for one, was really impressed by all the skills I learned everyone had! I mean, I was learning who all of my team was. Even the one person I knew beforehand surprised me a couple of times. However, I struggled with this-connecting with my team. I have a "look, don't touch" preference when I am in pain-physically or emotionally. Because I carried a pain on this trip, I also carried that. I forced myself to talk to each of them at least once. (I don't use the word "forced" to say that they weren't amazing people that I eventually grew to admire and love. I use it to express the tone in which I, myself, was feeling.) Some took longer than others to get information out of and connect with. Which, is to be expected since we are all different. I had an assumption of myself- since I was used to being outside of groups due to moving, I would be okay being outside of this one. This assumption very quickly proved wrong. This made me angry with myself more than once. I hated not knowing everyone as well as they knew each other and I hated the fact that I hated it.

"How are you not over this petty feeling?"

That's the thought that went over and over in my head. However, in time they all became people I trusted and the beginnings to good friendships.

It rained a lot, so we were having to move building projects in and out of the garage a lot. All I could think of when we did that was BOOM, BANG, FIREPOWER! The rain wasn't heavy, but more of a drizzle. However, it always did rain long enough to soak things. It reminded me of how God's blessings aren't always "thick" to where you feel it immediately. Sometimes they are soft and happen over time, but they still thoroughly soak your life. That's how His blessings on me kind of happened. He drizzled His pure, amazing love all over my heart as a form of soothing oil. I didn't always feel it thick and heavy. But, it was abundantly obvious by the end of the trip. I left the U.S. full of doubt towards my heavenly Lover and came back fiercely sure of how he felt for me.

The Pastor's children we a daily blessing and source of heavy laughs. They could speak both English and Norwegian! (I know I shouldn't have been surprised, but my goodness it blew me away!) I couldn't help but be reminded of me and my sisters as the three of them interacted with us. You could easily see where they inherited such a precious spirit as you watched and talked with their parents. They always seemed to be welcoming people into their home (literally). There weren't many times there wasn't someone walking through their door. They poured so much into us as a family. They fed us, encouraged us, cared for us, translated for us (even the kids!), etc. In the wife you could immediately see such a tender heart and spirit. She made you feel as if you were home and in the best care you could be in. The pastor himself was very gifted to be such. I cannot even describe how strong and deeply imprinting it was to listen to him preach. Especially in a different language! You could see his love for God in his movements and face when he preached.

While we're on this topic, I suppose I'll talk about the church a little. Someone (I forgot who) had mentioned that they were a Pentecostal church. Before the service, a group of us (both the team and members of the church) went into a separate room and prayed. Not just one person praying and then we left for service- a person started and anyone could pray after that and it would go on until someone felt they could or should end it in prayer. There was a mix of English and Norwegian prayers. All were powerful. All were unifying. All were beautiful. I imagine all were so precious and sweet to God.

We walked into the sanctuary. A lot of wood (which I adore) and the lights coming from the ceiling were those that look kind of like bubbles hanging from the ceiling. I loved it. The worship started and I could tell that most of us were entranced. The blend of voices and instruments weren't much different than that at home, but hearing worship in a language that's not your own has a certain mystery and magnificence to it. They did some songs in English for us, too.

We had these things that looked like walkie-talkies with headphones. They were translators. A woman in the congregation graciously translated the sermon for us. But, I kept one earbud in and one out so I could hear it both ways. I happen to believe God is amazing in timing. We happened to be there during a sermon series about being fearless. I felt anything but fearless. In fact, I hadn't felt fearless in a long time.

The Norwegian word for fearless is fryktløs. That word will probably stay with me for the rest of my life.

After service was a socializing time with coffee, tea, pastries, and other food. I tried seal thinking it was salmon (salty). Many people were fascinated by the thing we call home school. My friend and I (we both were home schooled) answered many questions for a couple people on this topic. Many had never heard of it. They were all intrigued by the concept. My friend and I also met our house host at this time. I was more than ecstatic to find that she and her husband were Swedish! She ultimately became one of my favorite people on this trip.

Because I am blonde haired and blue eyed, I was more than once approached and spoken to in Norwegian. I was an assumed Norwegian. It was kind of really cool having been the only blonde hair and blue eyed person in many classrooms filled with Hispanics and Blacks. On that note, I was talking to one of the church members and I said "the dark skinned woman" and he laughed at me saying that us Americans are too offended all the time. He told me it was okay to just say "black person". Although, in this case to say "African American" could've been correct, too. After he said that I began to think about us Americans. We really are too offended all the time. I came back and looked at facebook and couldn't stand to be on for more than 10 minutes. All the judgements, hate, offenses, etc. suddenly were just too obvious as to where before they were just part of everyday life. They also recycle everything. Every household has three trash cans and every street has three different dumpsters. Their way of life is just so different…most walk, bike, ski on skis with wheels, or just travel by some sort of exercise. There are cars, but why use that when we could save money and gas by walking or biking?

Also, all the food tasted better. More fresh. Even food we have here tasted different. I didn't feel guilty eating anything!

I know that most of you are reading this and thinking, "This is all great, but what about the kids and people you went there to serve?" There wasn't any great revival. We don't have pictures of hundreds of children knelt down in prayer. In fact, a majority of the time we were so focused on what we were doing that we didn't think to take pictures. I sure didn't. Any pictures I put here are not ones I took. Many people have wondered why I have so many of the views and sights, but not of that time working or with kids. Well, when we were looking at the sights and views we were focused on those. We weren't working. One of our focuses was to capture what we saw on film or phone. But, that wasn't our focus at all while we were building a booth that would make a child laugh or talking to a parent about Jesus. Someone did get these pictures thankfully! My goal there wasn't to get as many selfies as I could. It was to show people who we serve. An amazing, loving, merciful, caring, genuine God. And they need this God even if they think they have it all.So, again, sorry for not having many pictures!

A lot of the children that we did interact with hadn't gotten to the grade level to begin learning English yet. Because of this, we had to try to communicate in a type of broken sign language- lots of hand motions and pointing. But these kids interacted this way eagerly and readily. Not many parents were there to interact with because parents more often than not sent their kids to us by themselves. I'm not gonna lie, this was sometimes frustrating. But, it didn't stop our ministry with these beautiful little souls. I learned how to say good job in Norwegian (godt jobba) and said it as the children completed my part of the obstacle course. I wanted to be able to say something in their language no matter how small it was. I saw their faces light up as I said it.

My house host, as I mentioned earlier, was one of my favorite people. She asked us questions about America and we asked her questions about Norway and Sweden. We cracked each other up trying to explain things we couldn't find the right words for in each other's language. Her English was awesome and she was learning more words as she spoke to us. I taught her the word "tweek" and she was very excited. She made me laugh a lot and her calming spirit often did wonders for me in the morning when I had to prepare for any chaos that could be thrown our way. I loved talking about God and the Bible with her! A topic we talked at length about was being unique women in God and what is beauty. Having two people from two different cultures made this a really cool conversation. Her husband and two little girls were on vacation while we were there so we got a lot of one-on-one time when we all had free time. This wasn't as often as you'd expect, but the times we had were like those little shavings of gold that gold miners might look over from time to time because they aren't bigger. They weren't big moments, but they were priceless.

I did eventually get to go to a Norwegian coffee shop. If any of you know me well, you know that this was definitely on the bucket list! I got a mocha (caffe mocca) and it tasted different despite the same ingredient list. I loved it. I also purchased a handmade, leather purse from a vendor that had his handmade items under a tent like structure outside the mall. I tell you, it was weird to see scarves being sold for 100 (kroners). A meal at McDonald's was 98.

A cloud of sadness came over the group as the time to leave drew very close. I mean, we were eager to see our families and sleep, but we had all fallen in love with at least a part of Norway. When we said our good-byes, it was definitely sad. We encouraged and prayed over the pastor. My first time ever in a taxi was the one that took us to the airport.

Also, sarcasm was something we couldn't really do because they took us seriously when we said it.

It was weird coming into the airport and seeing everyone reunited with their families. I suddenly knew what a deployed military individual felt when they walk off the plane and see no one. I mean, my friend's parents were there for me too, but it's not the same.

My time in Norway means a lot to me. There was so many times that I thought about snapping a picture of the beautiful sky or journaling about my team's laughter as we played games, but then I would put the phone down and the pen away knowing that these moments didn't require any other documentation than a place in my memories. I was walking by the lake that my parents have near their house and I saw some small fish. I got my phone out for a picture, but then decided that not every amazing moment needs that. Sometimes we are given moments for us. Not for the world. Not for our church. Not even for those closest to us. Just us. I suppose that's why I've procrastinated in writing this. I feel like this whole trip is one of those moments.One big beautiful moment. But, I've also learned that some things aren't meant to be kept that way forever. Stories are meant to be shared, spiritual victories to be encouraging, and moments to be painted on the canvas in the minds of whoever finds it pleasing.

Thank you to all who made this trip possible for me. I give all that glory and all of the glory of this trip to God.

Taylyr Davis

Here are some pictures of our time! (As I said, I didn't take these, so photo credit goes to my team members!)