"Your vocation in life is where your greatest joy meets the world's greatest need."
-Frederick Buechner (b. 1926), educator, writer, theologian
Friday, August 7, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
onward...
Brazil was stunning.
I was humbled once again.
And now it's time to re-pack in preparation for our 29 hour trek to Taiwan.
So until I return to earth on Wednesday, consider the complexity of the following scene:
While soaking in our daily rationing of sunlight, Jordan and I halted on the Copacabana boardwalk to watch a male doubles volleyball battle on the beach. Two elements of this match made it unlike any other I have ever seen. First, each player donned a Portuguese tongue (naturally) and a colorful Speedo (not so naturally). Second, and most peculiar, was the fact that this game was being played without using arms!
These guys kicked the ball off a tee of gathered sand to serve. They would then bound the ball off their chest (or perhaps, a side swipe kick) to pass, followed by a steady knee-ball set that always seemed to perfectly lead their approaching teammate. This guy would then leap up, chin to the sky before cranking forward blasting the ball with his forehead to the other side.
.....uhh....awesome!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Brazil....ahhh
My cankles and I arrived in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil on Tuesday after 19 hours of travel. After winding around lakes and through what looked like moss covered mountains, our bus stopped in front of the Everest Hoteis (Hotel)—a mere two minute walk from the beach. This may be one of the nicest hotels I’ve stayed in as part of USA Volleyball—clean rooms, clear water, and free intermittent internet. The food is great (though, it doesn’t take much for me, right?). I will say that my fave so far is the breakfast—the cereal, the MILK, the eggs. Simple stuff, I know—but they do it right.
Brazil is beautiful and so are its people. Boaters and runners and tai chi folks line the streets every morning as we wind our way to the practice gym. In some countries I’ve been, people generally blend together, like there is a distinct similarity that identifies them as Turks or Japanese, etc. In Brazil, however, I see mostly black or olive skin tones, but with many colors of hair and facial features, making it difficult to distinguish foreigners from locals.
I’m also hearing Pourtugeise for the first time. It reads and sounds a lot like Spanish (even some of the grammar rules are the same, like assigning male and female to words), yet apparently locals look at you like you’re crazy if you try to communicate in Spanish, or English for that matter.
Practice-wise, we have been in the gym four times already. Hugh has talked about this being a great learning experience for us as a group. That we expect to win, but we are also focused on getting better. We must expect the battle and keep our heads up and fight in adversity—something that didn’t happen today in practice.
We play Germany on Friday for our first match of the Grand Prix. Puerto Rico on Saturday, followed by the Olympic champs and home team Brazil on Sunday. Sweet. Three good teams to kick this battle off—how cool!
As for me, I’m taking it day by day, drill by drill. Today I got a little better, listened to a new song with Courtney on the bus ride and chatted with her about similar struggles we’ve experienced this summer. I’m so thankful for this day…
Ancora Imparo, people. [I am still learning]
Brazil is beautiful and so are its people. Boaters and runners and tai chi folks line the streets every morning as we wind our way to the practice gym. In some countries I’ve been, people generally blend together, like there is a distinct similarity that identifies them as Turks or Japanese, etc. In Brazil, however, I see mostly black or olive skin tones, but with many colors of hair and facial features, making it difficult to distinguish foreigners from locals.
I’m also hearing Pourtugeise for the first time. It reads and sounds a lot like Spanish (even some of the grammar rules are the same, like assigning male and female to words), yet apparently locals look at you like you’re crazy if you try to communicate in Spanish, or English for that matter.
Practice-wise, we have been in the gym four times already. Hugh has talked about this being a great learning experience for us as a group. That we expect to win, but we are also focused on getting better. We must expect the battle and keep our heads up and fight in adversity—something that didn’t happen today in practice.
We play Germany on Friday for our first match of the Grand Prix. Puerto Rico on Saturday, followed by the Olympic champs and home team Brazil on Sunday. Sweet. Three good teams to kick this battle off—how cool!
As for me, I’m taking it day by day, drill by drill. Today I got a little better, listened to a new song with Courtney on the bus ride and chatted with her about similar struggles we’ve experienced this summer. I’m so thankful for this day…
Ancora Imparo, people. [I am still learning]
Monday, June 1, 2009
tangled in black
Quite a bit has transpired since I last touched this here blog. I returned from Turkey, steeped in the feeling of home and family in Colorado, and now live in Anaheim California chasing a once very real dream.
I feel I could repeat a past entry that alluded to a faint light trying to bleed out a big darkness. About an ominous forest that entangles, yet at the same time rallies excitement for untethered paths.
I'm somewhere in that forest again, but this time I am going nowhere. I am moving, though, writhing actually, trying to free my wild hair that is all swirled and knotted up--way up--in the black branches. My feet kick, my toes reach...but I can't feel the ground. And what's worse, I can't see it.
If I could just get out of these branches... If I just had some scissors or a flashlight....
Or do I just make like a blind monkey and start swinging?
I feel I could repeat a past entry that alluded to a faint light trying to bleed out a big darkness. About an ominous forest that entangles, yet at the same time rallies excitement for untethered paths.
I'm somewhere in that forest again, but this time I am going nowhere. I am moving, though, writhing actually, trying to free my wild hair that is all swirled and knotted up--way up--in the black branches. My feet kick, my toes reach...but I can't feel the ground. And what's worse, I can't see it.
If I could just get out of these branches... If I just had some scissors or a flashlight....
Or do I just make like a blind monkey and start swinging?
Friday, May 1, 2009
seasoned
If it was possible to punch a blog’s author through this mysterious channel called Internet, I feel like I would deserve that right about now. My apologies, people, for not getting this concluding entry up sooner. Although, my remorse comes under a wild assumption that my readers might have a cell phone alert connected to my blog updates that grants them immediate, yet momentary, relief from the constant suspense that consumes them between entries. Perhaps this does not describe you?
In any case, I can finally say that our season is finished. The deserving team won the championship, and so we walk away with second place. Okay, that might sound harsh. Of course we worked hard in preparation and we wanted to win, but I’m a big believer in the power of intangibles (especially when it comes to winning it ALL) and I feel we lacked too many to do so. It was unfortunate, though, that we lost like we did—in four sets, finishing the series early at 1-3. Fenerbahce fought and played very well, and as much as I despise losing, I feel glad for them, their club, and even their remarkable coach who apparently turned the team around after arriving mid-season.
Our line-up was different, as I saw probably less than five minutes total on the court (entering the court at the end of a few losing sets). I don’t know Beppe’s reasoning, and I don’t feel the need to ask. Nancy started instead and fought and played hard, and GoGo returned to the middle (after not even suiting up since the Besiktas matches) and played well; I’m so glad they both got to end that way.
I was able to realize my goal of finishing strong. Those words became sort of an anthem mixed with prayer throughout the match and the days leading up to it. In fact, it may have seemed comical to onlookers when at something like 13-23 (yeah, not good), I was bouncing around the court (having just entered it) giving fives, trying to be heard over the deafening Fenerbahce crowd “Keep fighting! Let’s find a way! ….Give me the ball!” I probably looked crazy. But I didn’t care—all I was focused on was finishing strong and fighting ‘til the end so that when God and I break down the match after, there is no pang of regret.
So we lost. And after enjoying a semi-awkward barbeque with everyone yesterday, we said our goodbyes. Despite the unfortunate ending for our very talented group, I was filled with such a joy and a thankfulness for these people and for my experience here.
In any case, I can finally say that our season is finished. The deserving team won the championship, and so we walk away with second place. Okay, that might sound harsh. Of course we worked hard in preparation and we wanted to win, but I’m a big believer in the power of intangibles (especially when it comes to winning it ALL) and I feel we lacked too many to do so. It was unfortunate, though, that we lost like we did—in four sets, finishing the series early at 1-3. Fenerbahce fought and played very well, and as much as I despise losing, I feel glad for them, their club, and even their remarkable coach who apparently turned the team around after arriving mid-season.
Our line-up was different, as I saw probably less than five minutes total on the court (entering the court at the end of a few losing sets). I don’t know Beppe’s reasoning, and I don’t feel the need to ask. Nancy started instead and fought and played hard, and GoGo returned to the middle (after not even suiting up since the Besiktas matches) and played well; I’m so glad they both got to end that way.
I was able to realize my goal of finishing strong. Those words became sort of an anthem mixed with prayer throughout the match and the days leading up to it. In fact, it may have seemed comical to onlookers when at something like 13-23 (yeah, not good), I was bouncing around the court (having just entered it) giving fives, trying to be heard over the deafening Fenerbahce crowd “Keep fighting! Let’s find a way! ….Give me the ball!” I probably looked crazy. But I didn’t care—all I was focused on was finishing strong and fighting ‘til the end so that when God and I break down the match after, there is no pang of regret.
So we lost. And after enjoying a semi-awkward barbeque with everyone yesterday, we said our goodbyes. Despite the unfortunate ending for our very talented group, I was filled with such a joy and a thankfulness for these people and for my experience here.
Yesterday my brother gave me the scale question—I hate the scale question. “From 1-10, how would you rate your experience?” This is torture for an over-analyzer like me, but I tried to be quick about it and threw out an 8. He was as shocked as I was! But ya know, I think an 8 is actually about right. I endured the usual, and very necessary, struggles with my game, with people, with faith, but I was also living in a great city with a great roommate, feeling like I gained and grew so much (not to mention, I got all my promised money…on time!).
The growth has come in many ways. One example is when I flooded five pages of my journal the other day with insight on who Tracy Stalls really is. How do I see myself? How do I think others see me? My good and my bad seems to be naming itself more clearly than ever before. So as I more clearly identify myself (as objectively as possible), I can choose to continue in certain ways or work to change. Oof. Sparing you on the details, let's just name that process as both exhilarating and really, really hard.
In an effort to balance out my way-too-introspective sessions on life lately, I have done things like indulge on sweet-a-licious Turkish foods now that “I can,” or I pay someone (two people actually—one held the brush, the other the blow dryer. No joke.) to straighten my hair. The best 25 lira I’ve spent in awhile! My hair is frizz-free and flat, reaching to my bum. And these geniuses did this to my-stylist’s-nightmare-of-a-mop in less than 45 minutes! Brilliant.
Packing has been an adventure. No sitting on the suitcases yet, but that’s only because I’ve ditched a lot of things like all my wilted socks and bulky coats. I won’t leave my books, though, and that is posing a problem in the weight category. Boo.
In an effort to balance out my way-too-introspective sessions on life lately, I have done things like indulge on sweet-a-licious Turkish foods now that “I can,” or I pay someone (two people actually—one held the brush, the other the blow dryer. No joke.) to straighten my hair. The best 25 lira I’ve spent in awhile! My hair is frizz-free and flat, reaching to my bum. And these geniuses did this to my-stylist’s-nightmare-of-a-mop in less than 45 minutes! Brilliant.
Packing has been an adventure. No sitting on the suitcases yet, but that’s only because I’ve ditched a lot of things like all my wilted socks and bulky coats. I won’t leave my books, though, and that is posing a problem in the weight category. Boo.
Overloaded bags and all, I am set to board for home very early Sunday morning and will arrive that same day (in actuality about 19 hours later) in Denver—woo hooo!! I can’t wait to hear familiar voices and soon hug and kiss the very missed faces. *sigh*
What is in front of me now is a rest with friends and family followed by a summer in California with the National Team. Beyond that, the ways are endless. But the only one I want for sure is the way God would have me go, even if that takes me away from the court and into a shack. I’m not worried or afraid of this unknown, because if there is one element of Himself God has consistently revealed to me, beaten into my soul (though, amazingly, I still need to be reminded at times) it is that He is faithful.
May I continue to discern who I am and who I want to be, and even more deeply, may I continue to know, really know my Love, my Savior—as if, as one of my favorite authors Donald Miller puts it, to see the lines on Jesus’ face.
Thanks for being a part of my Istanbul adventure—as readers, as encouragers, as prayer warriors, and as advisors. I certainly couldn’t have maxed this thing out without you all (you know who you are).
On with journey…this wild unpaved journey…
Sunday, April 26, 2009
the power of 5
We should have been done by now. We should have already been the champions and I should be sitting on my suitcases in order to zip them up for home. Instead, we are down 1-2 to a team less talented than we are, but who is fighting for it more.
This means at most there are still five days left of peak concentration on all things Turkish volleyball. If we want a chance for the championship, we must win on Tuesday on our home court. Then, the final battle will resume on Thursday with the last whistle dishing out confetti and a shiny cup to one side or the other.
To give you a bit of background, our first match last Tuesday at home we lost 2-3. Ridiculous, considering we were up 21-16 in the fourth set that should have clinched it. Next match was at 8pm Friday in Fenerbahce’s gym, and we came out on fire, beating them easily 3-0. The next day we played at 3:30 (quick turn around) and couldn’t figure out how to play hard and together on a bad day, thus winning only the second set. Also, I found out later that Fener has finished second to Eczacibasi in the finals the past two years, so it is no wonder that this third time around their hunger could be mistaken for rabies. (foaming mouths, anyone?)
Yesterday two of our star players had bad nights—a rare occurrence. What’s not so rare, I’m discovering, is the negative spirit that seeps into this group. We had a small gathering at our place after where we all overindulged on various cheesy Turkish entrees, tea, nuts, and strawberries (good thing we ignored the call for chocolate). We ate, we talked, and many smoked. Of course I understand that some venting can be good and necessary in order to break it free from bouncing around in one’s head (I, too, could fill a page with all that, people). However, when the verbal bashing of fellow teammates and coaches is incessant, inviting others to join in linking those same, not present people as the source and cause of all their problems, the outlook for a positive turn around is slim.
Who knows. Maybe in this professional arena, this is the norm. Maybe somehow each one might be able to find a way to be great these next two matches, because their focus, their motivation lies elsewhere. I get that. Because that’s where my mind is headed.
How can you believe in a group where there is no trust, no unity? This is different from my previous experiences with both Nebraska and USA, where there has always been an important and wonderful element of team unity to rally behind. Of course it wasn’t crack-free, but there was effort to maintain it at least. I see any unity we had here unraveling quickly with no action being taken from within to hold it together.
I’ve spoken up here and there, especially with Esra, but the reality is that I am a rookie. Not only do I get that my voice doesn’t hold much power, especially to the veterans, but I also feel I should just listen and observe more than speak this time around. The game of volleyball and its team dynamics are different overseas, in Turkey. Like I said, maybe this is the norm, and so this year I will observe and learn. Next year…. Well, that’s a different story—one to consider more after the coming final whistle.
So for now my focus can be boiled down to two words: FINISH STRONG. There is too much going awry that I can’t control, but what is most important is that I finish the fight exhausted, having given everything I could to being my very best. These last two matches I have been focused on ramping up the competitive fire that is my game but that has been dwindling lately. It has felt better recently, and I want to continue to bring who I am, the one who believes, loves the battle, and who wants the ball when the game is on the line. I want to finish with her on the court. Heck, she could even be on the bench, as long as I can walk away knowing I honored my God, the giver of my talents, with what I gave back to Him.
I WILL FINISH STRONG.
This means at most there are still five days left of peak concentration on all things Turkish volleyball. If we want a chance for the championship, we must win on Tuesday on our home court. Then, the final battle will resume on Thursday with the last whistle dishing out confetti and a shiny cup to one side or the other.
To give you a bit of background, our first match last Tuesday at home we lost 2-3. Ridiculous, considering we were up 21-16 in the fourth set that should have clinched it. Next match was at 8pm Friday in Fenerbahce’s gym, and we came out on fire, beating them easily 3-0. The next day we played at 3:30 (quick turn around) and couldn’t figure out how to play hard and together on a bad day, thus winning only the second set. Also, I found out later that Fener has finished second to Eczacibasi in the finals the past two years, so it is no wonder that this third time around their hunger could be mistaken for rabies. (foaming mouths, anyone?)
Yesterday two of our star players had bad nights—a rare occurrence. What’s not so rare, I’m discovering, is the negative spirit that seeps into this group. We had a small gathering at our place after where we all overindulged on various cheesy Turkish entrees, tea, nuts, and strawberries (good thing we ignored the call for chocolate). We ate, we talked, and many smoked. Of course I understand that some venting can be good and necessary in order to break it free from bouncing around in one’s head (I, too, could fill a page with all that, people). However, when the verbal bashing of fellow teammates and coaches is incessant, inviting others to join in linking those same, not present people as the source and cause of all their problems, the outlook for a positive turn around is slim.
Who knows. Maybe in this professional arena, this is the norm. Maybe somehow each one might be able to find a way to be great these next two matches, because their focus, their motivation lies elsewhere. I get that. Because that’s where my mind is headed.
How can you believe in a group where there is no trust, no unity? This is different from my previous experiences with both Nebraska and USA, where there has always been an important and wonderful element of team unity to rally behind. Of course it wasn’t crack-free, but there was effort to maintain it at least. I see any unity we had here unraveling quickly with no action being taken from within to hold it together.
I’ve spoken up here and there, especially with Esra, but the reality is that I am a rookie. Not only do I get that my voice doesn’t hold much power, especially to the veterans, but I also feel I should just listen and observe more than speak this time around. The game of volleyball and its team dynamics are different overseas, in Turkey. Like I said, maybe this is the norm, and so this year I will observe and learn. Next year…. Well, that’s a different story—one to consider more after the coming final whistle.
So for now my focus can be boiled down to two words: FINISH STRONG. There is too much going awry that I can’t control, but what is most important is that I finish the fight exhausted, having given everything I could to being my very best. These last two matches I have been focused on ramping up the competitive fire that is my game but that has been dwindling lately. It has felt better recently, and I want to continue to bring who I am, the one who believes, loves the battle, and who wants the ball when the game is on the line. I want to finish with her on the court. Heck, she could even be on the bench, as long as I can walk away knowing I honored my God, the giver of my talents, with what I gave back to Him.
I WILL FINISH STRONG.
Friday, April 17, 2009
one at a time
So we did it. Turk Telekom is finished, as we advance to the Finals! We won in 4 sets tonight, and it took every one of us twelve players to do it. The series thus ended 3-1, and now the battle resumes against Fenerbahce in one week.
I'm exhausted.
We get on a plane in the morning--don't know when yet (and it's almost 1 AM). It will be an exciting moment when I leave the Istanbul airport tomorrow. Not only do I get to go back to Esra's and SIT, but what is most excellent is that the next time I will enter that airport will be to begin my journey back to the US of A!
One more push. A few more matches. Gotta give every ounce of anything that I have left... And I will. God help me, I will.
Tonight, though, I just wanna go home......
Sunday, April 12, 2009
how Fuji's shirt applies to Easter
I'm exhausted. But that will all be over by tomorrow morning. That's right. I'm deciding this night's sleep will be all the recovery I will need to bring it tomorrow for the second round of the semi-finals.
We lost in 5 on Friday in Ankara against Turk Telekom. Whew--what a battle. Each game was only a two or three point difference. What's cool is that we have had two days to review it and make little necessary adjustments. What's no so cool is that in the semis, you must win best of 5 matches not sets in order to advance to the finals. That's a big change from the "one 'n done" of college volleyball, even National team events! I do love a great battle, though, and every single set will be nothing less than that with this opponent!
By the way, I forgot to mention that last week the number one seed Gunes Sigorta (the one we played a billion times before--winning all but one match) was knocked out by the last seed of the playoffs! That round was only best of 3 matches, but Galatasaray found a way to win! Amazing--everyone was shocked! Now this eighth seed is losing soundly to Fenerbahce, who will likely advance to the final round 3-0.
In our gym, things aren't quite as fluffy and sweet. It's good though that amid all the intensity and pressure all around us that we could walk out of a mostly bad practice smiling. Beppe was on edge from the beginning. The veins really began to pop near the middle of practice during a usual 6 on 6 drill. There was some confusion in the backrow, leaving a ball to fall without a body flying after it. Fuji was center back and the ball hit the very tip of one of the corners. Beppe made her chase balls all over, then exploded in broken english, "Why?! Why is dis?" In fear and lack of oxygen, she answered, "Beppe, it's impossible to.."
"Impossible!? Look at your shirt, Fuji! We are Adidas--Nothing is Impossible!!..."
He continued his shouting, oblivious to the smirks and covered mouths scattering all around.
I didn't dare change my serious expression, but it was hilarious. He actually used our sponsor's slogan as a mode of motivation in practice. A first. Practice continued in its usual way, and after we gathered to cool down and stretch it was good to see Beppe smiling as he said softley to Vesna, "Did you like that? Was good, no?"
Okay, gotta move quickly now. My head is throbbing--though, this could be less from the fact that I'm tired, and more from the fact that my face got blasted today by one of the best attackers in the league, Mirka, our Cuban. I blinked black for a few minutes, but no biggie, right?
Anyway, we play Monday night at 5:30pm and again the next day. We plan to win both of these matches, earning us a day off on Wednesday before heading back to Ankara to play match #4 on Friday. If we split the wins, we'll play the deciding match on Saturday. Brutal, right! I'm excited, though--just gotta be smart.
Before I run with my delirium to the Sheraton's plush pillow, allow me to shout out a HAPPY EASTER to all of you friends and family and blog followers out there! There are no polka-dot eggs or chocolates or marshmallow bunnies anywhere--which isn't so bad, to be honest with you (though I wouldn't mind downing a handful of cadbury's perfect pastel choco eggs--Jon, you know!). I do miss the fellowship, though, and the community. People who might stand with me in prayer and happy tears acknowledging the Reason for this celebration.
Today Jesus rose from the dead, and not by way of a cooky magic trick. He rose from the dead, proving Himself to be what He always said He was--God. He rose from the dead like all the prophets from way back when said He would, and He did so to show that death--the kind that comes by our sin and living for things that will never satisy--no longer has a grip on us. His rising means that I am free, that forgiveness is real, and that Life--the kind God, our Creator, meant for us to have--is ours to choose.
So from that humbled and thankful place, I say again HAPPY EASTER. I have so much to learn. I have so much to make ammends for. I have so.... much. What a privelege to be known and loved by the God of all. That today in practice, when things weren't going well, when my face was throbbing and patience waning, I was able--able--to choose Christ. That He was more important than anything else.
This is my blog. And tonight I felt like speaking my heart. I miss my family and I miss my friends. Less than a month now.... less than a month.
Bring on the battles (and ice) in the meantime.
We lost in 5 on Friday in Ankara against Turk Telekom. Whew--what a battle. Each game was only a two or three point difference. What's cool is that we have had two days to review it and make little necessary adjustments. What's no so cool is that in the semis, you must win best of 5 matches not sets in order to advance to the finals. That's a big change from the "one 'n done" of college volleyball, even National team events! I do love a great battle, though, and every single set will be nothing less than that with this opponent!
By the way, I forgot to mention that last week the number one seed Gunes Sigorta (the one we played a billion times before--winning all but one match) was knocked out by the last seed of the playoffs! That round was only best of 3 matches, but Galatasaray found a way to win! Amazing--everyone was shocked! Now this eighth seed is losing soundly to Fenerbahce, who will likely advance to the final round 3-0.
In our gym, things aren't quite as fluffy and sweet. It's good though that amid all the intensity and pressure all around us that we could walk out of a mostly bad practice smiling. Beppe was on edge from the beginning. The veins really began to pop near the middle of practice during a usual 6 on 6 drill. There was some confusion in the backrow, leaving a ball to fall without a body flying after it. Fuji was center back and the ball hit the very tip of one of the corners. Beppe made her chase balls all over, then exploded in broken english, "Why?! Why is dis?" In fear and lack of oxygen, she answered, "Beppe, it's impossible to.."
"Impossible!? Look at your shirt, Fuji! We are Adidas--Nothing is Impossible!!..."
He continued his shouting, oblivious to the smirks and covered mouths scattering all around.
I didn't dare change my serious expression, but it was hilarious. He actually used our sponsor's slogan as a mode of motivation in practice. A first. Practice continued in its usual way, and after we gathered to cool down and stretch it was good to see Beppe smiling as he said softley to Vesna, "Did you like that? Was good, no?"
Okay, gotta move quickly now. My head is throbbing--though, this could be less from the fact that I'm tired, and more from the fact that my face got blasted today by one of the best attackers in the league, Mirka, our Cuban. I blinked black for a few minutes, but no biggie, right?
Anyway, we play Monday night at 5:30pm and again the next day. We plan to win both of these matches, earning us a day off on Wednesday before heading back to Ankara to play match #4 on Friday. If we split the wins, we'll play the deciding match on Saturday. Brutal, right! I'm excited, though--just gotta be smart.
Before I run with my delirium to the Sheraton's plush pillow, allow me to shout out a HAPPY EASTER to all of you friends and family and blog followers out there! There are no polka-dot eggs or chocolates or marshmallow bunnies anywhere--which isn't so bad, to be honest with you (though I wouldn't mind downing a handful of cadbury's perfect pastel choco eggs--Jon, you know!). I do miss the fellowship, though, and the community. People who might stand with me in prayer and happy tears acknowledging the Reason for this celebration.
Today Jesus rose from the dead, and not by way of a cooky magic trick. He rose from the dead, proving Himself to be what He always said He was--God. He rose from the dead like all the prophets from way back when said He would, and He did so to show that death--the kind that comes by our sin and living for things that will never satisy--no longer has a grip on us. His rising means that I am free, that forgiveness is real, and that Life--the kind God, our Creator, meant for us to have--is ours to choose.
So from that humbled and thankful place, I say again HAPPY EASTER. I have so much to learn. I have so much to make ammends for. I have so.... much. What a privelege to be known and loved by the God of all. That today in practice, when things weren't going well, when my face was throbbing and patience waning, I was able--able--to choose Christ. That He was more important than anything else.
This is my blog. And tonight I felt like speaking my heart. I miss my family and I miss my friends. Less than a month now.... less than a month.
Bring on the battles (and ice) in the meantime.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
to do or not to do
Back from Italy I am, reclining once again on the familiar red couch of Esra’s living room. Three loads of laundry strewn over various racks with the white paper floor lamp giving the room a soft glow. As I’m plodding my unmanicured fingers all over this keyboard, my roomie is cleaned and covered in her room kneeling and lifting her hands for “namas,” or Muslim prayer. When she’s done we plan to make popcorn together. She’s going to show me (I mean, remind me?) how to do it the ole’ fashioned way with just oil in a hot pan. I like it here.
So there is much to say about Italy, of course. We did finish fourth in the European Champions League this past weekend. Though we didn’t play our best team volleyball in Perugia, we did reach our goal to be top four, ahead of a lot of other great teams in the world. There is much for us to learn from our mistakes, from the great talent and confidence of the top two teams (Bergamo and Dinamo), and from the challenges of critics. Losses are always great opportunities to grow, and it is important that we take hold of that chance to do so because now we have the playoffs to focus on. More on that later.
……………………
Ha!….I revisit this blog draft almost a week later. *SIGH* It would be a lie to say I have lacked the free time, as of course I could have traded watching that movie or going for that walk to posting an update. I have simply lacked the fortitude. Plus, the fact that I can’t use my own computer to post anything (i.e. its hormonal internet connection) makes the process more laborsome, and that never jives well with lethargy.
I have half an hour before I need to finish packing for Ankara. We advanced passed Besiktas in the first round of play-offs, and now comes the real test. The semi-final series (best of 3 matches) versus Turk Telecom (Jenny Lang Ping’s team) begins tomorrow night! I am fired up and hope I get a chance to join the battle this round. I didn’t suit up against the Besiktas matches. Beppe said he wanted to give others some game reps—this included the middle returning from the injury and our Turkish right side hitter (Nancy suited but didn’t play). So even though Beppe said that I’m not finished and he wants to use me when he can, I know anything can happen.
So regardless of his decisions, it feels great to say that I’ve been kicking butt in practice and am entering into each day feeling good about what I’ve been doing with what I can control. I am so thankful that the connection with Naz is improving a lot, that my body feels healthy and strong, and that all payments are coming in on time (most other players I know overseas aren’t so fortunate). Most of all, I am thankful to know that I am where I should be and that this—all of this—is truly God’s thing…and I am but a willing player.
Oh, and another thing I am thankful for: Mom’s TOFFEE! That’s right folks. Everyone reading this should be insanely jealous that I opened a package from my mother to find bags and bags of homemade toffee—one of her many, many mouth watering specialties. I wanted so much to share with the people in my Istanbul sphere a taste of my home, especially since they have been so generous to me in theirs. I finally handed it out after our win on Monday night to all staff and teammates, and the expected “Mmmmm” and “Wow!” did follow every bite! “Thank you! Please tell your mom THANK YOU!!” So there ya go, mom—your toffee is now an international wonder! J
On that note, this entry must close as my unorganized roller bag beckons. I will aim to update sooner rather than later this time. If you have any suggestions or questions, holla my way so I can answer them in the next blog. Again, your support and prayers are definitely felt way out here in this city that spans two continents—so thank you, too.
On with the journey…….
So there is much to say about Italy, of course. We did finish fourth in the European Champions League this past weekend. Though we didn’t play our best team volleyball in Perugia, we did reach our goal to be top four, ahead of a lot of other great teams in the world. There is much for us to learn from our mistakes, from the great talent and confidence of the top two teams (Bergamo and Dinamo), and from the challenges of critics. Losses are always great opportunities to grow, and it is important that we take hold of that chance to do so because now we have the playoffs to focus on. More on that later.
……………………
Ha!….I revisit this blog draft almost a week later. *SIGH* It would be a lie to say I have lacked the free time, as of course I could have traded watching that movie or going for that walk to posting an update. I have simply lacked the fortitude. Plus, the fact that I can’t use my own computer to post anything (i.e. its hormonal internet connection) makes the process more laborsome, and that never jives well with lethargy.
I have half an hour before I need to finish packing for Ankara. We advanced passed Besiktas in the first round of play-offs, and now comes the real test. The semi-final series (best of 3 matches) versus Turk Telecom (Jenny Lang Ping’s team) begins tomorrow night! I am fired up and hope I get a chance to join the battle this round. I didn’t suit up against the Besiktas matches. Beppe said he wanted to give others some game reps—this included the middle returning from the injury and our Turkish right side hitter (Nancy suited but didn’t play). So even though Beppe said that I’m not finished and he wants to use me when he can, I know anything can happen.
So regardless of his decisions, it feels great to say that I’ve been kicking butt in practice and am entering into each day feeling good about what I’ve been doing with what I can control. I am so thankful that the connection with Naz is improving a lot, that my body feels healthy and strong, and that all payments are coming in on time (most other players I know overseas aren’t so fortunate). Most of all, I am thankful to know that I am where I should be and that this—all of this—is truly God’s thing…and I am but a willing player.
Oh, and another thing I am thankful for: Mom’s TOFFEE! That’s right folks. Everyone reading this should be insanely jealous that I opened a package from my mother to find bags and bags of homemade toffee—one of her many, many mouth watering specialties. I wanted so much to share with the people in my Istanbul sphere a taste of my home, especially since they have been so generous to me in theirs. I finally handed it out after our win on Monday night to all staff and teammates, and the expected “Mmmmm” and “Wow!” did follow every bite! “Thank you! Please tell your mom THANK YOU!!” So there ya go, mom—your toffee is now an international wonder! J
On that note, this entry must close as my unorganized roller bag beckons. I will aim to update sooner rather than later this time. If you have any suggestions or questions, holla my way so I can answer them in the next blog. Again, your support and prayers are definitely felt way out here in this city that spans two continents—so thank you, too.
On with the journey…….
Sunday, March 22, 2009
prepare to win
There are many odd and wonderful things about Turkey. For instance:
- Tomatoes and cucumbers are staple foods, and it is customary for tomatoes to always be peeled before eating.
- Soup is always a first course in a meal, and it is shocking to have a glass of milk at dinner. People gawked at me and seemed to be gagging. ReAlly?!
- At the movies, you buy a ticket that is assigned seating. Butter for your popcorn is nowhere to be found, and you should expect a 10 minute intermission during the film.
- The shirt that I am wearing right now has a horrible blob-like drawing on it with the writing: “Dear Diary: I was hungry but mister pudding got angry.” Every time I look down, I laugh out loud. If you’re not laughing, too, we must not be very good friends. J
Besides this randomness, allow me to elaborate a bit on the happenings of this week. We finished up two key elements to our season. We beat Fenerbahce in 5 sets to take the Turkish Cup on Wednesday. Not only do we get to hold up a big gold cup and sway and clap to the tune “We are the Chaaampions,” but supposedly this means a big bonus pay day. Hmm…we’ll see, I guess.
I ended up not suiting up for the match at all. Now that GoGo, the other middle who was injured, is back, our roster is expanding beyond the allowed 12. Because I was the fourth foreigner, they decided to keep me out and let her suit up instead. There was the initial thought of “Heey…” seeing as how I started and did well in our previous match, but the situation makes sense and, even more important, is completely outside of my control. I was washed with peace from the sidelines, and proceeded to bring it the rest of the week in practice.
Last night with Nancy out to rest her shoulder, I played again with the team as we completed another goal gaining all 12 points to finish out the Turkish League regular season. We knocked off our opponent in three sets, bumping us up to 3rd place in prep for TL playoffs that begin first week in April.
So now, as Beppe would say, we need to put in our pockets the Cup and also the playoffs and focus entirely on the Final Four this coming weekend. We will have two solid days to train here and get better, then we leave for Perugia, Italy Wednesday morning!
I just filled many pages in my journal earlier about this exciting week ahead. I am thankful that I am not a stranger to big matches, though this is a world stage unlike any other that I have experienced. There are many distractions to manage as I embrace the chance to get better this week in practice and take the floor each time confident in my skills and presence and heart.
If you would join me, please, in praying throughout this week for a clear and pure mind—that the coming distractions and pulls for the recognition of people would pass easily out of my mind. That my focus would stay in the present as I feel the pleasure and guidance of the Father and that together we would maximize this incredibly exciting opportunity in front of me. I want to enjoy each moment and the people around me. I want to be used by Him however He would want. And I want to bring Him honor as I compete on Saturday (and hopefully Sunday), unleashing the best of the talents He has given me. That in doing so, my mind would be far from proving myself to others, but instead focused on the moment, the ball, and feeling His pleasure as I soar. Please pray also just for the safety of myself and our team—the travel, our health, etc. Thank you, thank you, thank you….
In other news, I have been so blessed this week by Esra and her mother, who has stayed with us all week. She has lovingly prepared every meal, and as I watched her move about the kitchen dicing and flipping last night, I missed my own momma even more. Esra and I have also continued our laughter-filled ways, having devised a secret that we will unveil only if we win the Turkish League—heh heh. My goofy side is slowly creeping out of hiding and Esra, though a bit shocked I’m sure, is loving it. The other night she, Selime, and I danced in the streets (no joke) on our way to the coffee shop where they convinced me to make prank calls to their friends using my various accents. The poor guys met a British Elizabeth, a Spanish-like Anita, and a southern-belle Jenny. Haha…good times.
As I close out this entry, you should be aware that my computer once again can’t seem to connect to an “Excellent” signal. You can just imagine the twitching fits I incur as a result of this madness (and people think the frizz is caused by humidity…). So I’ve tried to do minimal updates and such through Esra’s Turkish computer. The keyboard is all screwy, though, so communication is difficult. However, I will do my best on this Italy trip to stay in contact.
Our semi-final against Dynamo will be Saturday night and the final will take place on Sunday. I’m sure there is a way to watch it online. If I find out specifics, I will try to give the link here if I can. Anyway, bless you all. I miss you and long for your faces and hugs. Another great adventure awaits—thanks for being a part of it!!
- Tomatoes and cucumbers are staple foods, and it is customary for tomatoes to always be peeled before eating.
- Soup is always a first course in a meal, and it is shocking to have a glass of milk at dinner. People gawked at me and seemed to be gagging. ReAlly?!
- At the movies, you buy a ticket that is assigned seating. Butter for your popcorn is nowhere to be found, and you should expect a 10 minute intermission during the film.
- The shirt that I am wearing right now has a horrible blob-like drawing on it with the writing: “Dear Diary: I was hungry but mister pudding got angry.” Every time I look down, I laugh out loud. If you’re not laughing, too, we must not be very good friends. J
Besides this randomness, allow me to elaborate a bit on the happenings of this week. We finished up two key elements to our season. We beat Fenerbahce in 5 sets to take the Turkish Cup on Wednesday. Not only do we get to hold up a big gold cup and sway and clap to the tune “We are the Chaaampions,” but supposedly this means a big bonus pay day. Hmm…we’ll see, I guess.
I ended up not suiting up for the match at all. Now that GoGo, the other middle who was injured, is back, our roster is expanding beyond the allowed 12. Because I was the fourth foreigner, they decided to keep me out and let her suit up instead. There was the initial thought of “Heey…” seeing as how I started and did well in our previous match, but the situation makes sense and, even more important, is completely outside of my control. I was washed with peace from the sidelines, and proceeded to bring it the rest of the week in practice.
Last night with Nancy out to rest her shoulder, I played again with the team as we completed another goal gaining all 12 points to finish out the Turkish League regular season. We knocked off our opponent in three sets, bumping us up to 3rd place in prep for TL playoffs that begin first week in April.
So now, as Beppe would say, we need to put in our pockets the Cup and also the playoffs and focus entirely on the Final Four this coming weekend. We will have two solid days to train here and get better, then we leave for Perugia, Italy Wednesday morning!
I just filled many pages in my journal earlier about this exciting week ahead. I am thankful that I am not a stranger to big matches, though this is a world stage unlike any other that I have experienced. There are many distractions to manage as I embrace the chance to get better this week in practice and take the floor each time confident in my skills and presence and heart.
If you would join me, please, in praying throughout this week for a clear and pure mind—that the coming distractions and pulls for the recognition of people would pass easily out of my mind. That my focus would stay in the present as I feel the pleasure and guidance of the Father and that together we would maximize this incredibly exciting opportunity in front of me. I want to enjoy each moment and the people around me. I want to be used by Him however He would want. And I want to bring Him honor as I compete on Saturday (and hopefully Sunday), unleashing the best of the talents He has given me. That in doing so, my mind would be far from proving myself to others, but instead focused on the moment, the ball, and feeling His pleasure as I soar. Please pray also just for the safety of myself and our team—the travel, our health, etc. Thank you, thank you, thank you….
In other news, I have been so blessed this week by Esra and her mother, who has stayed with us all week. She has lovingly prepared every meal, and as I watched her move about the kitchen dicing and flipping last night, I missed my own momma even more. Esra and I have also continued our laughter-filled ways, having devised a secret that we will unveil only if we win the Turkish League—heh heh. My goofy side is slowly creeping out of hiding and Esra, though a bit shocked I’m sure, is loving it. The other night she, Selime, and I danced in the streets (no joke) on our way to the coffee shop where they convinced me to make prank calls to their friends using my various accents. The poor guys met a British Elizabeth, a Spanish-like Anita, and a southern-belle Jenny. Haha…good times.
As I close out this entry, you should be aware that my computer once again can’t seem to connect to an “Excellent” signal. You can just imagine the twitching fits I incur as a result of this madness (and people think the frizz is caused by humidity…). So I’ve tried to do minimal updates and such through Esra’s Turkish computer. The keyboard is all screwy, though, so communication is difficult. However, I will do my best on this Italy trip to stay in contact.
Our semi-final against Dynamo will be Saturday night and the final will take place on Sunday. I’m sure there is a way to watch it online. If I find out specifics, I will try to give the link here if I can. Anyway, bless you all. I miss you and long for your faces and hugs. Another great adventure awaits—thanks for being a part of it!!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
kneeling straight up
A grande latte, a small plate now spackled only in crumbs, and a view of sea gulls skimming the choppy ripples of the Bosphorus. Ahhh…. I would be outside also taking in the fresh air, but it’s still a bit too chilly for all that. Plus, there’s no plug for my computer (c’mon, it can’t all be romantic). Today is a day off, and the only thing I envision for it is sitting and typing and sipping.
It has definitely been a full week, beginning with our preparations for the important European Champions League match vs. the Polish team that took place on Wednesday. And guess what, people? We finished them off in three sets! I was expecting a raging battle, but they never really responded to us coming out strong at the start. So now at the end of March we will be going to Perugia, Italy for the European Final Four! This is a big deal, I am learning. Esra, for example, has been with Eczacibasi for five years and playing pro for about eight years total, and this is her first time to go. It has been seven years since Eczacibasi has been to the Final Four.
The other three teams will be Perugia (who received a free pass as the host), Dynamo from Russia, and Bergamo from Italy (who knocked off the previously undefeated favorite Italian team of Pezaro). [Be advised, I may have totally butchered every one of those names]. We face Dynamo in the first round. My heart races just thinking about it…
In celebration of meeting a big goal for the club, the Eczaci board hosted a catered dinner in our honor Thursday night. We got all fancied up, and each took turns speaking a few words. It really was a cool atmosphere—awkward at times, but not near as intimidating as it could have been. Many of the girls spoke about the unique family feel of the club—which, although it is still infiltrated with the usual politicking, really is a special dynamic for this club.
After the dinner, Esra and I went home. We were soon shouting and laughing and hitting each other as we watched Bergamo defeat Pezaro in a fantastic match—wanting Bergamo to win, of course. Then she asked me to help her answer some interview questions in English. She dictated her general ideas while I typed out the proper form. It was such a blessing—not only did I get to learn more about her and the development of Turkish volleyball, but such quality time enabled me to get outside of my own mind for awhile. And, boy, did I need that!
Also, watching that match taught me a lot about the level of the best in Europe. I saw the great plays, and I also saw the errors. The coach of Pezaro was from the Brazilian national team—the best of the best in the world. He actually even looked a lot like Beppe to me. Then I learned that Beppe, in fact, used to coach Bergamo and was very successful there.
All this caused me to pause. I saw, even more, how blessed I was to be at this club, in this city, with our top players, and under the leadership of Beppe. I have been so fortunate throughout my entire career to be led by the best in coaching, and Beppe is no exception. Even before I learned a bit of his background, he always impressed me in how he spoke about the game. He is very limited in his English vocabulary, but he does a fine job communicating what we need to do and how we need to think.
I watched talented middles from both teams get their jobs done. I watched how they moved laterally, how they handled broken plays, and their shot selection in various situations. They are talented, and they are professionals. But I also saw humans. I saw people with stories who make mistakes like serving out on two key set points or who blister a great shot one inch out of bounds. I saw myself out there, too—in the midst of such a battle, loving every nail-biting second, and wanting the ball when it’s all on the line. I do belong at this level. It’s taken me some time so far to settle in to my game here, but I believe my game does fit nicely into the groove of Europe’s top.
Yesterday, in fact, was a good and timely step towards feeling some of that groove. We had another Turkish League match, this time in Ankara, and I played well. I was light and focused, and I wasn’t trying to prove myself to anyone. My preparation didn’t differ so much from every other match I’ve played here, but I felt more primed—if that makes any sense.
I’ve been dealing a lot with where I stake my value. And so far I’ve discovered people’s opinions have been affecting my self-worth and confidence much more than I realized before. I knew what was true in terms of God being the meeter of my needs and finding me fully approved where I stand because of Jesus, but I wasn’t living out that belief. And not to say that I have arrived at the answer by any means, but my increased awareness is critical. It’s bringing out a rather quizzical posture of standing taller while on my knees.
So it is in that posture that I offer the often understated words, “Thank You.” And I offer them to my ever-present Father who is faithful to complete the work He has begun in me (Philippians 1:6). Like I told the board and my teammates that night at dinner, I am so thankful and honored and humbled to be a part of this journey. That although I sometimes feel like an imposter joining in mid-season, I couldn’t have asked for a better way to begin my pro career.
I must enjoy this. I may never have the chance to be among the best professional volleyballers in Europe at the prestigious Final Four. I may never be a part of a talented “family-like” club again. I may never have teammates as generous or a coach as patient again. I may even decide that I would rather write a book next season instead of play this game (don’t hold your breath). Point is, I must throw off all that hinders and all that robs my joy in this moment God so purposefully placed me (Hebrews 12:1). I will enjoy this, and I will continue to bring to it everything I have and everything that I am (and am becoming).
This Starbucks overlooking the water is now bustling with customers. Both levels are full, I’m sure. I am tucked away in a corner, quite comfortable and secluded. Unfortunately, though, my little nook has issues recognizing the free internet (yeah, FREE in a Starbucks—what a concept, right?). I mentioned this to a worker who had come to gather my crumby plate—thinking maybe the free wi-fi was too good to be true. We didn’t speak the same language, but he gestured understanding, poked around on my keyboard a little, and pointed upstairs. I just nodded and smiled, thinking maybe he meant that upstairs had better connectivity.
This Starbucks overlooking the water is now bustling with customers. Both levels are full, I’m sure. I am tucked away in a corner, quite comfortable and secluded. Unfortunately, though, my little nook has issues recognizing the free internet (yeah, FREE in a Starbucks—what a concept, right?). I mentioned this to a worker who had come to gather my crumby plate—thinking maybe the free wi-fi was too good to be true. We didn’t speak the same language, but he gestured understanding, poked around on my keyboard a little, and pointed upstairs. I just nodded and smiled, thinking maybe he meant that upstairs had better connectivity.
Instead, during the writing of this here blog, at least five different members of the Starbucks staff (each one having a progressing capacity to speak English) came to my aid about 10 times total. One even took my laptop on a mini tour of the shop trying to see if connectivity happened elsewhere. This, my friends, is service. The fact that I never got connected is a mute point compared to the efforts the green-aproned men made to make it happen. Turkish people pride themselves on their servanthood attitudes, and so far their actions have really backed that up—not including the terrifying rug spaz, of course.
This coming week we play for the Turkish Cup final against Fenerbahce at home on Wednesday. If we win, the girls are planning to go out dancing that night. Uh oh! Even if they dismiss me as having no dance skills whatsoever, they will see what it looks like to let the music move you!
On with the journey…
This coming week we play for the Turkish Cup final against Fenerbahce at home on Wednesday. If we win, the girls are planning to go out dancing that night. Uh oh! Even if they dismiss me as having no dance skills whatsoever, they will see what it looks like to let the music move you!
On with the journey…
Sunday, March 8, 2009
good day for a square
I seriously overdosed on milk and honey corn flakes today—relishing each perfect bite during both breakfast and dinner, polishing off the entire box! But I’ll have you know that a box of cereal here is like a third of what it is in the States—so let’s be clear! ….Ahem.
My day off today was actually much more interesting than that little tid bit. March 8th not only happens to be Women’s Day in Turkey and all of Europe, but Muslims also celebrate Mohammed’s birthday. What made the day so great for me, though, was that wonderful Vesna took me, her 5-year-old son Nicola, and her mother to Istanbul’s famed center gathering place Taksim Square. I wish I had photos of the great European buzz and cobblestones, but my dang camera laid dormant in my bedroom all day instead. Next time.
Anyway, Taksim was great. So many fun shops, of course—both the expensive and bargain kind—and incredible food selection. Tons of people, most of them wearing black (don’t ask me why), spouting all sorts of languages, and giving us two tall blondes a good stare-down (stare-up, rather?) before passing. It was fun to watch how generous Vesna was with her son, and with all of us for that matter—with food, attention, patience, and small gifts. She is away from him so much because of volleyball, so it was clear that this time with him meant a lot for both of them.
Besides these precious moments with Nicola, Vesna’s main mission was to pick up some shoes some guy in an lone alleyway shop had made for her—yeah, this is how people overseas solve the “I can’t find my size anywhere but Payless” issue. It was fun to see her flash the shiny new pumps with big-time heels. I was overwhelmed by the “borrowed” designs of Gucci, Prada, etc. nodding like snobs at my own big feet and dusty brown shoes. Anyway, I ended up ordering a couple pairs which totaled to an obscene amount of money (remember, I’m the girl who cringes if the shoes at Payless aren’t on clearance). Apparently they only need seven days to make me the “perfect shoes.” Although I still twitch a little when I think about my wallet, it was kind of fun to splurge on my feet for once. Plus, black boots and tan sandals are actually quite practical choices, wouldn’t you say? …Good answer.
So about the big important Poland match from last week… We WON! We beat a talented team in 4 sets amid a constant blare of whistles and drums. This means that when we face them again this Wednesday at home, we have to win at least 2 sets in order to move on to the European Final Four in Italy! So we will see. No word yet on the Armani warm-ups. First, we have to get better; I have to get better in practice tomorrow. Looking forward to working on my neutral read position and quick hand penetration on the block (for you volley-buffs).
And now you may be expecting the deep stuff next, right? How can Tracy actually do a blog without exposing yet another piece of her bleeding heart? Okay, okay. Of course there is much I could say here—like about how some revelations have begun to surface as to what the deeper causes are to some of my struggles here. But, lucky for you, I don’t feel like going there right now. Instead, I will leave you with a piece of truth I encountered yesterday that is both beautiful in its imagery and challenging in its depth.
If clouds are full of water,
They pour rain upon the earth.
Whether a tree falls to the south or to the north,
In the place where it falls, there will it lie
Whoever watches the wind will not plant;
Whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.
As you do not know the path of the wind,
Or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb,
So you cannot understand the work of God,
The Maker of all things.
Sow your seed in the morning,
And at evening let not your hands be idle,
For you do not know which will succeed,
Whether this or that,
Or whether both will do equally well.
Ecclesiastes 11:3-6
My day off today was actually much more interesting than that little tid bit. March 8th not only happens to be Women’s Day in Turkey and all of Europe, but Muslims also celebrate Mohammed’s birthday. What made the day so great for me, though, was that wonderful Vesna took me, her 5-year-old son Nicola, and her mother to Istanbul’s famed center gathering place Taksim Square. I wish I had photos of the great European buzz and cobblestones, but my dang camera laid dormant in my bedroom all day instead. Next time.
Anyway, Taksim was great. So many fun shops, of course—both the expensive and bargain kind—and incredible food selection. Tons of people, most of them wearing black (don’t ask me why), spouting all sorts of languages, and giving us two tall blondes a good stare-down (stare-up, rather?) before passing. It was fun to watch how generous Vesna was with her son, and with all of us for that matter—with food, attention, patience, and small gifts. She is away from him so much because of volleyball, so it was clear that this time with him meant a lot for both of them.
Besides these precious moments with Nicola, Vesna’s main mission was to pick up some shoes some guy in an lone alleyway shop had made for her—yeah, this is how people overseas solve the “I can’t find my size anywhere but Payless” issue. It was fun to see her flash the shiny new pumps with big-time heels. I was overwhelmed by the “borrowed” designs of Gucci, Prada, etc. nodding like snobs at my own big feet and dusty brown shoes. Anyway, I ended up ordering a couple pairs which totaled to an obscene amount of money (remember, I’m the girl who cringes if the shoes at Payless aren’t on clearance). Apparently they only need seven days to make me the “perfect shoes.” Although I still twitch a little when I think about my wallet, it was kind of fun to splurge on my feet for once. Plus, black boots and tan sandals are actually quite practical choices, wouldn’t you say? …Good answer.
So about the big important Poland match from last week… We WON! We beat a talented team in 4 sets amid a constant blare of whistles and drums. This means that when we face them again this Wednesday at home, we have to win at least 2 sets in order to move on to the European Final Four in Italy! So we will see. No word yet on the Armani warm-ups. First, we have to get better; I have to get better in practice tomorrow. Looking forward to working on my neutral read position and quick hand penetration on the block (for you volley-buffs).
And now you may be expecting the deep stuff next, right? How can Tracy actually do a blog without exposing yet another piece of her bleeding heart? Okay, okay. Of course there is much I could say here—like about how some revelations have begun to surface as to what the deeper causes are to some of my struggles here. But, lucky for you, I don’t feel like going there right now. Instead, I will leave you with a piece of truth I encountered yesterday that is both beautiful in its imagery and challenging in its depth.
If clouds are full of water,
They pour rain upon the earth.
Whether a tree falls to the south or to the north,
In the place where it falls, there will it lie
Whoever watches the wind will not plant;
Whoever looks at the clouds will not reap.
As you do not know the path of the wind,
Or how the body is formed in a mother’s womb,
So you cannot understand the work of God,
The Maker of all things.
Sow your seed in the morning,
And at evening let not your hands be idle,
For you do not know which will succeed,
Whether this or that,
Or whether both will do equally well.
Ecclesiastes 11:3-6
Saturday, February 28, 2009
dis and dots
Bullet points only, people. Here goes...
- My hair is getting longer, and my skin continues to lose pigment. Next shade: transparency.
- Yesterday, Esra and I each paid 30 Lira to have a maid clean our “flat.” How nice it was to come home from practice greeted by folded laundry and zero dust tumbleweeds (those are no joke).
- Tonight we played Nilufer at home and beat them 3-0. Now we have only three more Turkish League matches (of which we usually play on Saturdays). The goal is to beat each of these less experienced teams 3-0, that way we accumulate 12 total points (3 for every 3-0 victory). Currently we are something like 4th place in TL regular season, but if we get all 12 we could bump up to #2. This is all about seeding for playoffs around the corner.
- Even though tonight’s match was Turkish League, I played in the M1 position. It felt good to run behind the setter, though the connection is still all static. Vesna, our Serbian “super-middle” and class clown, sat out tonight to rest up from an ankle injury that incurred a couple matches ago. She a fighter for sure, but it is better that I get practice playing with the team and that she rests—all for the big week next week.
- On Tuesday we board a plane for Munich. We will play a top Polish team in Poland at 6pm on Thursday. Muszyna is the name and we are fighting for a chance to go to the European League Final Four! It is best of two matches, so the following week Poland will play at our place on Wednesday (March 11). Vesna asked if we get more gear for getting to the Final Four. Cemil, our club director guy, laughed, “We give you Armani warm-ups for that!” Yeah—sure. Can you picture the dig’n’roll moves in black leather and cashmere?—Ha!
- I’m reading the book Slumdog Millionaire (as well as many others…). It’s fast paced and interesting. My dad saw the movie awhile back and is still raving about it (huh, Dad?). Today the girls in the locker room were stoked that it is finally at their theatre! Nesve, Busra, and I are going to see it on Monday. I’m really excited, especially because they made it a point to ask ME to go.
- One more match remains for Turkish Cup. We beat Fenerbahce this past Tuesday 3-1 in the first round of the finals. We play them March 18th for the last contest at our home gym. Should be a FINE battle!…*she wipes the drool from her lower lip*
- There is an absurd lack of trash cans in the public places of Istanbul. I left a trail of dripping freezing water all over the mall the other day as I carried around my used ice bags looking…searching…for a dang bin. My Turkish teammates thought nothing of it. All I found near every escalator on every floor were bins with no holes or openings just shallow concave tops. For cigarette disposal, perhaps? CHONK. No, for ice disposal, I decided. Hmpf.
- I am officially a sucker for Turkish pastries. Not the syrupy sweet things as much as the mini, delightful cocoons of flaky, buttery crusts filled with savory surprises such as potato, cheese, spinach, or meat. Or talk to me about the amazing breads swirled with olive spread and perfect elasticity. The opinion is right, I think, that we Americans don’t know GOOD bread. All American, that is, except the whole wheat Queen of everything baked and delicious, Mrs. Shirley Heinmets. But wait…she’s Swedish!
- Stray animals are everywhere here in Turkey. Some are shy, some are bold, and all are mangy and unpredictable. Esra and I were walking home last week from Kahve Dunyasi (the local coffee joint). We were about to pass a man with two dogs walking in front of him—one on a leash, the other roaming free. How strange, I thought. Maybe that’s just how they do it in Turkey? The free one was cute with a white diamond patch on his forehead, but for some reason, as Esra gabbed away, I kept watching him. I was about to avert my eyes as he passed, when he suddenly lunged at her leg! The man basically ran away, but claimed the dog had gotten its shots. Esra was bleeding and went to the hospital later to get rabies shots just in case! We still see the dog everyday, and now I just give the blonde spaz a little more space. I get enough foam in my lattes, thank you very much. (Oh...am I a riot, or what?)
- Have you noticed that my bullet points are each becoming short stories? Why, oh why, do I even try?
- Note to the volleyball lingo analysts: the setter doesn’t “dump,” she tips here.
- My shoulder is actually feeling pretty good—I haven’t even thought about it that much recently. Praise, praise God! Now, if I could just find where I left my GAME…
- Thank you so much, my dear friends and family, for your thoughts and time and prayers. I hope you hear me on that. I’m sorry our communication is so sporadic, but I do feel and appreciate your help that reaches to me from across the ocean.
- We have the day off tomorrow (Sunday). I will see some fellow Americans (men and women) volley it up, and the word is we will grab some Mexican food after that. Don’t mind if I DO….
- But for now, I am exhausted--with a pair of heavy eyes and a heart dusted in frustration. Yet, tomorrow is a new day--a great day.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
what is real
I walk the woods in daylight
Under a canopy of shadows.
The limbs climb high and wide and low
Licking my fear.
Ominous
Dark
Yet, only masking the light.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
double whammy
The Point
From the My City Hotel on the Asian side of Istanbul, I feel a little twitchy in my contented state. This may be due to the three cups of kahve (coffee) I just inhaled, or perhaps Tracy is finally letting her sheath down a little.
You see, there are many sides to this person working the keyboard. I can be quite goofy and engaging, but I can also be the opposite extreme—reclusive and very shy. I’ve been battling too much of the latter recently. It is my tendency when things are difficult or heavy for me to withdraw in order to regain stability and positive focus—not always a great thing, but sometimes necessary.
This was certainly the case leading up to this past Tuesday’s match against Gunes Sigorta (our fifth and final contest with this team). It was finally a European League match; I was set to start; and I honestly felt as mighty as a lone unripened lima bean. There are many reasons why I felt so small—the poor attack connection with our setter, feeling like everyone was just expecting, waiting for me to blow the big game, etc. Whatever the reasons, I knew there was much work to do to get my mind right. I went through my routine like normal—the studying, the music, the prayer (and the hair). But this time my need for true thoughts to replace the bad ones felt extra vital; the “Fake it til you make it” would not cut it. So I had to search for what was real, what I could control, and what promises from God I could think on instead.
As I filtered through the usual round of thoughts before the match of what it means to compete knowing my value is set and my needs are met by God alone, another powerful truth began to surface. Considering first what was at stake, I think the worst that could happen is that I do completely botch the match; every touch is an error; and the club condemns my career convincing everyone in the world of volleyball to never hire me again. Wow—not cool.
But, truly, even that would not be the end of my story. Volleyball is not who I am, but something I do. It is a gift—a joy to me from the Creator of all. Even more, volleyball is a means to a much greater end in my life—growing to the utmost in character and person like that of the one and only Jesus Christ. My bigger goal is to extract, to touch, to own every curve and grain of my making, my pot. The Potter didn’t spin me into being so that I could be great at volleyball. He didn’t create me to reap happiness or comfort, marriage or praise. These can all be good in life, and happiness is certainly a blessing and desire, but, really, it is not the point of living.
And so, as I positioned the clips throughout the mane and strapped in the ankles for another round of juking and pounding, I resigned myself to simpler thoughts. Get up on time, Trace, and swing fast. Close with your feet on the block and press. Firm hand and pop on the serve. “Next play” mentality. Bring on the battle, bring on the hard, because all I want is to be everything God intended. So I will give everything tonight, and let it be how it will be.
I was struck once again by the words of 1Peter 5:6-7:
“Humble yourselves under God’s might right hand, and He will lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.”
We competed hard and won in five. The win was very exciting as we then advanced to the second round of the European League, which means that if we beat our Polish opponents next (best of 2 matches) we advance to the Final Four! I believe we can really do it!
I will admit that it is a little strange divulging so much about my pre-game thought in a blog, but the purpose of this thing is to share my experience. And, really, this is the bulk of what’s going on for me right now—wrapping my mind around where I fit in this new professional arena.
Dairy and Daggers
Now, in an effort to move away from the incredibly deep volleyball lima bean talk, I was delighted to discover today that my teammate Nesve (nesh-vey) shares my incredible delight in creamy foods. Cheese, milk, yoghurt, cream…You name it; we love it. And might I go so far as to say if you haven’t eaten dairy foods from countries outside the US, then you haven’t eaten them at ALL. Milk actually has taste here. And Cheese….don’t even get me started on the varieties and shapes and textures that all make your taste buds slap happy.
YEeeaaahh….so besides the BEAN-O, you might want to send me some armor, because the daggers that were flying from some locals a couple days ago were ALL headed in my direction! Nancy and Jason Metcalf (my fellow Nebraska peeps) and I chose to surround ourselves with bags and kebaps and rugs galore at the famed tourist site of the Grand Bazaar. The roofed maze of color and chatter filled my nostrils with ripe leather. The name of the game is bargain, and I thought myself a veteran having filled many-a-bag with China’s Silk Market goods for crazy cheap. And so when we were led to a special room to check out Turkish silk rugs, I was excited for the haggling to begin. The well-spoken man charmed us with apple tea and kind words. In fact, Nancy and Jason had bought rugs from him in previous years. He whipped out maybe twenty rugs, spinning and flaunting their uniqueness. One particular white, red, and green rug caught my eye. He dropped the 950 Lira bomb (over $600). Uhh…. Excuse me? Nancy, Jason, and I talked it over. After finding some stains and imperfections, I decided I’d offer him 300 L. I wasn’t determined to get it, but thought if he bit—sweet—if not, I’ll just walk away.
“This rug is very nice,” I said. “But with the stains and everything, I’ll give you 300 Lira”
“Sure.” he said, rapidly nodding. “Sure. 300 Lira.”
I was floored. Dangit, I thought, I should have asked for 250. Then I noticed his expression. The fumes, the eyes…and the explosion.
“You know she wasn’t going to buy a rug, Nancy! You come in here and waste my time!” He paced the floor and kicked the rugs—arms flailing. “You are insane trying to buy a rug 300 Lira! AHHH!”
I realize now my small offer could have felt very insulting to him, but I was so shocked to see this guy flip the switch so fast. From complete schmooze-fest to fierce anger! Nancy and Jason were responding calmly to his accusations, but I in my increasing anxiety just started backing away towards the door.
I suppose I’m thankful for Mr. Spazz, because I wasn’t as shocked the next time my low-ball offer shuddered a seller. A beautiful Louis Vuitton messenger bag beckoned me and visions of coffee shops. That is, until the guy said it was worth 400 Lira! Say WHAT? For a knock-off? I offered him 50 Lira. He glared at me with a sort of crazed grin. Taking back the bag from my hands, he said, “Sorry, lady. You will never see your dream.”
Ha. So it is true that in Istanbul perhaps vendors are not as bendy when it comes to the worth of their products. I will return to the Grand Bizaare, but next time with a thicker skin (or a chained vest?), more money, and expanded dreams!
Now we play another big match against Fenerbahce tonight (Saturday). Gotta get my mind right. But first, I’m going to find Nesve for a little pre-match cheese.
From the My City Hotel on the Asian side of Istanbul, I feel a little twitchy in my contented state. This may be due to the three cups of kahve (coffee) I just inhaled, or perhaps Tracy is finally letting her sheath down a little.
You see, there are many sides to this person working the keyboard. I can be quite goofy and engaging, but I can also be the opposite extreme—reclusive and very shy. I’ve been battling too much of the latter recently. It is my tendency when things are difficult or heavy for me to withdraw in order to regain stability and positive focus—not always a great thing, but sometimes necessary.
This was certainly the case leading up to this past Tuesday’s match against Gunes Sigorta (our fifth and final contest with this team). It was finally a European League match; I was set to start; and I honestly felt as mighty as a lone unripened lima bean. There are many reasons why I felt so small—the poor attack connection with our setter, feeling like everyone was just expecting, waiting for me to blow the big game, etc. Whatever the reasons, I knew there was much work to do to get my mind right. I went through my routine like normal—the studying, the music, the prayer (and the hair). But this time my need for true thoughts to replace the bad ones felt extra vital; the “Fake it til you make it” would not cut it. So I had to search for what was real, what I could control, and what promises from God I could think on instead.
As I filtered through the usual round of thoughts before the match of what it means to compete knowing my value is set and my needs are met by God alone, another powerful truth began to surface. Considering first what was at stake, I think the worst that could happen is that I do completely botch the match; every touch is an error; and the club condemns my career convincing everyone in the world of volleyball to never hire me again. Wow—not cool.
But, truly, even that would not be the end of my story. Volleyball is not who I am, but something I do. It is a gift—a joy to me from the Creator of all. Even more, volleyball is a means to a much greater end in my life—growing to the utmost in character and person like that of the one and only Jesus Christ. My bigger goal is to extract, to touch, to own every curve and grain of my making, my pot. The Potter didn’t spin me into being so that I could be great at volleyball. He didn’t create me to reap happiness or comfort, marriage or praise. These can all be good in life, and happiness is certainly a blessing and desire, but, really, it is not the point of living.
And so, as I positioned the clips throughout the mane and strapped in the ankles for another round of juking and pounding, I resigned myself to simpler thoughts. Get up on time, Trace, and swing fast. Close with your feet on the block and press. Firm hand and pop on the serve. “Next play” mentality. Bring on the battle, bring on the hard, because all I want is to be everything God intended. So I will give everything tonight, and let it be how it will be.
I was struck once again by the words of 1Peter 5:6-7:
“Humble yourselves under God’s might right hand, and He will lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.”
We competed hard and won in five. The win was very exciting as we then advanced to the second round of the European League, which means that if we beat our Polish opponents next (best of 2 matches) we advance to the Final Four! I believe we can really do it!
I will admit that it is a little strange divulging so much about my pre-game thought in a blog, but the purpose of this thing is to share my experience. And, really, this is the bulk of what’s going on for me right now—wrapping my mind around where I fit in this new professional arena.
Dairy and Daggers
Now, in an effort to move away from the incredibly deep volleyball lima bean talk, I was delighted to discover today that my teammate Nesve (nesh-vey) shares my incredible delight in creamy foods. Cheese, milk, yoghurt, cream…You name it; we love it. And might I go so far as to say if you haven’t eaten dairy foods from countries outside the US, then you haven’t eaten them at ALL. Milk actually has taste here. And Cheese….don’t even get me started on the varieties and shapes and textures that all make your taste buds slap happy.
YEeeaaahh….so besides the BEAN-O, you might want to send me some armor, because the daggers that were flying from some locals a couple days ago were ALL headed in my direction! Nancy and Jason Metcalf (my fellow Nebraska peeps) and I chose to surround ourselves with bags and kebaps and rugs galore at the famed tourist site of the Grand Bazaar. The roofed maze of color and chatter filled my nostrils with ripe leather. The name of the game is bargain, and I thought myself a veteran having filled many-a-bag with China’s Silk Market goods for crazy cheap. And so when we were led to a special room to check out Turkish silk rugs, I was excited for the haggling to begin. The well-spoken man charmed us with apple tea and kind words. In fact, Nancy and Jason had bought rugs from him in previous years. He whipped out maybe twenty rugs, spinning and flaunting their uniqueness. One particular white, red, and green rug caught my eye. He dropped the 950 Lira bomb (over $600). Uhh…. Excuse me? Nancy, Jason, and I talked it over. After finding some stains and imperfections, I decided I’d offer him 300 L. I wasn’t determined to get it, but thought if he bit—sweet—if not, I’ll just walk away.
“This rug is very nice,” I said. “But with the stains and everything, I’ll give you 300 Lira”
“Sure.” he said, rapidly nodding. “Sure. 300 Lira.”
I was floored. Dangit, I thought, I should have asked for 250. Then I noticed his expression. The fumes, the eyes…and the explosion.
“You know she wasn’t going to buy a rug, Nancy! You come in here and waste my time!” He paced the floor and kicked the rugs—arms flailing. “You are insane trying to buy a rug 300 Lira! AHHH!”
I realize now my small offer could have felt very insulting to him, but I was so shocked to see this guy flip the switch so fast. From complete schmooze-fest to fierce anger! Nancy and Jason were responding calmly to his accusations, but I in my increasing anxiety just started backing away towards the door.
I suppose I’m thankful for Mr. Spazz, because I wasn’t as shocked the next time my low-ball offer shuddered a seller. A beautiful Louis Vuitton messenger bag beckoned me and visions of coffee shops. That is, until the guy said it was worth 400 Lira! Say WHAT? For a knock-off? I offered him 50 Lira. He glared at me with a sort of crazed grin. Taking back the bag from my hands, he said, “Sorry, lady. You will never see your dream.”
Ha. So it is true that in Istanbul perhaps vendors are not as bendy when it comes to the worth of their products. I will return to the Grand Bizaare, but next time with a thicker skin (or a chained vest?), more money, and expanded dreams!
Now we play another big match against Fenerbahce tonight (Saturday). Gotta get my mind right. But first, I’m going to find Nesve for a little pre-match cheese.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
delighting in rain
Memories of homesickness bring about a cozy couch, mom’s soup, and a pink plastic mug of cold 7-Up. The other, the kind of homesickness people are supposed to have when they leave their country and their comfort zone for months at a time is not as prevalent for me in the memory bank. I mean, I’ve always been away from one parent growing up, and switching states every year or so was the norm. So it’s not a huge change for me to be distant from loved ones or to once again be “the new kid” in town. I see this uncommon perspective as quite a blessing—a great enabler for my independent lifestyle, such as the one unfolding now in Istanbul.
Yet, I suppose it can also be viewed as refreshing when I find myself to be more human, as I simply long for the company of the people who really know me—that these past few days I have not felt so comfortably isolated. For example, I’d like to spaz out in an explosion of wild facial expressions, accents, and lame jokes, but to do so here may result in people cowering in fear of my bulging eyes and rapid English. To do this, to let go might help me forget for a moment my frustrations (mainly with my game) and remember that I must find a way to think well and give my best even on the hard days.
Of course I realize that these circumstances seem so petty when set up against the deeper loss and heartache and pain of this world. Yet, this is my reality—my now. God knows I am thankful for it, but these past few days just haven’t been sunshine and lollipops. No. In fact, I’m soaked from the rain, and the taste in my mouth is reminiscent of dirty cilantro.
Ha. A bit over-dramatic, you say? Perhaps. I do know the sun is still shining behind the clouds. That assurance is the beauty of following after the God of all, knowing that I am exactly where I should be. With that comes a peace that truly does transcend understanding. And on those days (like yesterday) when I wake up feeling powerless, without the strength for a gracious attitude about the coming minutes and hours, I know that I can pull from the endless strength of Christ.
Today I read:
“Again the one who looked like a man touched me and gave me strength.
‘Do not be afraid, O man highly esteemed,’ he said. ‘Peace! Be strong now; be strong.’
When he spoke to me, I was strengthened and said,
‘Speak, my lord, since you have given me strength.’”
~Daniel 10:18-19
In other news, two days ago I found myself surrounded by snowy trees and strange creatures. Swaying gently from the movement of the reindeer-drawn buggy, I saw that seated to my left was the Ice Queen herself. In my hand I held a small square, dusted with white powder. Stricken with glee, I popped the whole cube in my mouth. Chewy—oh so chewy--with a surprising crunch of nuttiness. Mmmm.... the subtle sweetness of my very first Turkish Delight.
…Then, in the lucid playground of my mind, I snatched the whole box from the queen’s icy grip, smacked her with the banana peel in my pocket and leaped out of the buggy! A red couch in the distance beckoned me to rest. And it was there that Esra, our team captain, and I reclined to watch her new documentary about the life of the country’s beloved Ataturk, laughing and learning with our Delights.
Today we have a match against Turk Telecom—one of the other top teams in Turkey. Last night I gave our old National Team coach Jenny Lang Ping a big hug—I was so happy to see her. Though, it will be strange to see her again tonight coaching from the other side of the net. It was funny that even in Turkey her homeland entourage was still at her heels. As soon as I saw her, a Chinese camera man scrambled to his feet to film our exchange. Oh the memories…
Yet, I suppose it can also be viewed as refreshing when I find myself to be more human, as I simply long for the company of the people who really know me—that these past few days I have not felt so comfortably isolated. For example, I’d like to spaz out in an explosion of wild facial expressions, accents, and lame jokes, but to do so here may result in people cowering in fear of my bulging eyes and rapid English. To do this, to let go might help me forget for a moment my frustrations (mainly with my game) and remember that I must find a way to think well and give my best even on the hard days.
Of course I realize that these circumstances seem so petty when set up against the deeper loss and heartache and pain of this world. Yet, this is my reality—my now. God knows I am thankful for it, but these past few days just haven’t been sunshine and lollipops. No. In fact, I’m soaked from the rain, and the taste in my mouth is reminiscent of dirty cilantro.
Ha. A bit over-dramatic, you say? Perhaps. I do know the sun is still shining behind the clouds. That assurance is the beauty of following after the God of all, knowing that I am exactly where I should be. With that comes a peace that truly does transcend understanding. And on those days (like yesterday) when I wake up feeling powerless, without the strength for a gracious attitude about the coming minutes and hours, I know that I can pull from the endless strength of Christ.
Today I read:
“Again the one who looked like a man touched me and gave me strength.
‘Do not be afraid, O man highly esteemed,’ he said. ‘Peace! Be strong now; be strong.’
When he spoke to me, I was strengthened and said,
‘Speak, my lord, since you have given me strength.’”
~Daniel 10:18-19
In other news, two days ago I found myself surrounded by snowy trees and strange creatures. Swaying gently from the movement of the reindeer-drawn buggy, I saw that seated to my left was the Ice Queen herself. In my hand I held a small square, dusted with white powder. Stricken with glee, I popped the whole cube in my mouth. Chewy—oh so chewy--with a surprising crunch of nuttiness. Mmmm.... the subtle sweetness of my very first Turkish Delight.
…Then, in the lucid playground of my mind, I snatched the whole box from the queen’s icy grip, smacked her with the banana peel in my pocket and leaped out of the buggy! A red couch in the distance beckoned me to rest. And it was there that Esra, our team captain, and I reclined to watch her new documentary about the life of the country’s beloved Ataturk, laughing and learning with our Delights.
Today we have a match against Turk Telecom—one of the other top teams in Turkey. Last night I gave our old National Team coach Jenny Lang Ping a big hug—I was so happy to see her. Though, it will be strange to see her again tonight coaching from the other side of the net. It was funny that even in Turkey her homeland entourage was still at her heels. As soon as I saw her, a Chinese camera man scrambled to his feet to film our exchange. Oh the memories…
Friday, February 6, 2009
to dwell
This may have been post number five if my wonderful computer could figure out how to connect to Internet that boasts the connection as “Very Good.” But alas, it has much trouble with this.
But let’s avoid any sort of rampage about such trivial things, shall we? I’d rather touch on some greatness that has happened these past few days.
First of all, we won our very important match Tuesday night 4-1. This win allowed us to advance in, I believe, the Turkish Cup standings. It is strange, though, that after playing this team twice in a row this past week (both Saturday and Tuesday), we still play them three more times—in Turkish League (different from the Turkish Cup) and in European League. If you’re confused, don’t worry—so am I.
I did end up playing a couple rotations near the end of the last set. I know Beppe was a little nervous since I had only been practicing two days so far. But I was ready and was stoked…and God blessed it. Now, don’t go thinking that I lit up the stat board or anything, because I didn’t (one point, baby!!). But let me tell you that it was such a beautiful way to start my pro career.
The best way to describe it is that I was WHOLLY PRESENT. I had prayed before the match that God would keep me from the great amount of distractions that await in a moment like that, where every eye in that gym wants to see how good this new, frizzy, American really is, thus pride and insecurities and uncertainty were likely to flare. I had no idea what pre-game warm-up was, and I didn’t even have a jersey until we finished peppering! But through God's incredible faithfulness, all this, all these external things would enter my mind and slide right back out, then instead I would notice, encourage others, and ready myself.
“Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.” Psalm 37:3
I subbed in. The smiles and “Bravo, Tracy!” from my teammates was a blur in the first moment, as all I could think about was getting to my ready position at the net to block. Raising my already sweaty hands, I felt awkward calling out hitters, because nobody else did it—so I said it quietly to myself. The first ball was a wacky dig that forced me to quick-decision-bump-set Mirka on the outside who crushed it (yeah….she’s Cuban). Whew! Later, I got a bad touch on the block, and after a second of internal scolding, I took my position for serve receive, got the call from Naz our setter, and my heart suddenly leaped a little. I took on a wide smile and was so excited for that ball to come over the net so we could all try again. Thank You, Lord, I whispered. I LOVE this stuff!
Okay… so I won’t give the play-by-play, but if you must know, I blocked a tip straight down due to my sweet hang time (my what?) to make my mark on that scoreboard! All in all, my pro “debut” and our great team win really pumped me up. I am also looking forward to exploring further this notion of being wholly wherever you are. Where anything but the present seems not to exist. Thoughts of the past or future may float in, but quickly dissipate, because the moment, the present seizes every sensation, every attention. Like I said--beautiful.
Today we leave for a Turkish city far, far away. We have a match on Saturday and should return to Istanbul that night. Nancy said we will go by plane then by bus, and apparently in two days we get to spend eight hours on that bus! Ahh….good times and, hopefully, good pics!
A few random things of note about life here in Istanbul:
- Traffic is horrendous. Next time you feel like shouting “duck!” to a wayward driver in the States, remember to be thankful that street lines actually mean something.
- Flip flops are “shocking” to people. In a breezy 60 degree sunny day, everyone was afraid for my life—that I would fall ill for wearing such atrocities.
- It is important to look chic when going to a shopping mall here. I felt quite dumpy simply wearing a black Columbian fleece with jeans. And sweatpants in public—unheard of!
- My Italian/Turkish broken English accent gets better by the minute, people! Just you wait!
But let’s avoid any sort of rampage about such trivial things, shall we? I’d rather touch on some greatness that has happened these past few days.
First of all, we won our very important match Tuesday night 4-1. This win allowed us to advance in, I believe, the Turkish Cup standings. It is strange, though, that after playing this team twice in a row this past week (both Saturday and Tuesday), we still play them three more times—in Turkish League (different from the Turkish Cup) and in European League. If you’re confused, don’t worry—so am I.
I did end up playing a couple rotations near the end of the last set. I know Beppe was a little nervous since I had only been practicing two days so far. But I was ready and was stoked…and God blessed it. Now, don’t go thinking that I lit up the stat board or anything, because I didn’t (one point, baby!!). But let me tell you that it was such a beautiful way to start my pro career.
The best way to describe it is that I was WHOLLY PRESENT. I had prayed before the match that God would keep me from the great amount of distractions that await in a moment like that, where every eye in that gym wants to see how good this new, frizzy, American really is, thus pride and insecurities and uncertainty were likely to flare. I had no idea what pre-game warm-up was, and I didn’t even have a jersey until we finished peppering! But through God's incredible faithfulness, all this, all these external things would enter my mind and slide right back out, then instead I would notice, encourage others, and ready myself.
“Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.” Psalm 37:3
I subbed in. The smiles and “Bravo, Tracy!” from my teammates was a blur in the first moment, as all I could think about was getting to my ready position at the net to block. Raising my already sweaty hands, I felt awkward calling out hitters, because nobody else did it—so I said it quietly to myself. The first ball was a wacky dig that forced me to quick-decision-bump-set Mirka on the outside who crushed it (yeah….she’s Cuban). Whew! Later, I got a bad touch on the block, and after a second of internal scolding, I took my position for serve receive, got the call from Naz our setter, and my heart suddenly leaped a little. I took on a wide smile and was so excited for that ball to come over the net so we could all try again. Thank You, Lord, I whispered. I LOVE this stuff!
Okay… so I won’t give the play-by-play, but if you must know, I blocked a tip straight down due to my sweet hang time (my what?) to make my mark on that scoreboard! All in all, my pro “debut” and our great team win really pumped me up. I am also looking forward to exploring further this notion of being wholly wherever you are. Where anything but the present seems not to exist. Thoughts of the past or future may float in, but quickly dissipate, because the moment, the present seizes every sensation, every attention. Like I said--beautiful.
Today we leave for a Turkish city far, far away. We have a match on Saturday and should return to Istanbul that night. Nancy said we will go by plane then by bus, and apparently in two days we get to spend eight hours on that bus! Ahh….good times and, hopefully, good pics!
A few random things of note about life here in Istanbul:
- Traffic is horrendous. Next time you feel like shouting “duck!” to a wayward driver in the States, remember to be thankful that street lines actually mean something.
- Flip flops are “shocking” to people. In a breezy 60 degree sunny day, everyone was afraid for my life—that I would fall ill for wearing such atrocities.
- It is important to look chic when going to a shopping mall here. I felt quite dumpy simply wearing a black Columbian fleece with jeans. And sweatpants in public—unheard of!
- My Italian/Turkish broken English accent gets better by the minute, people! Just you wait!
Monday, February 2, 2009
day iki
Nothing like waking up to a drill through your headboard. Yes, day 3 here in Istanbul starts with an unpleasant jolt out of my Tylenol PM coma. I mean, I get that hotels need maintenance, but let's not allow people to stay in the room directly above the one where glass must be thrown against itself, burrows must be drilled, and hammers... hammered at nine in the morning! C'mon, people!
Ahem.
Yesterday was full of excitement. I requested to do a mini workout in the morning--dynamic moves, stretch, abs, and band work--in an effort to get some of the jet lag gunk out of my body before the practice with the team later that evening. Our assistant coach Gokhan picked me up and took me to the club's training facility, built solely for the volleyball program in 2003 by Eczacibasi--pretty sweet.
.....Let's take a timeout to get this word right, because it is important and not easy. In fact, I've been mumbling it over and over each day in the corner of my teeny hotel room, rocking back and forth (okay, not really.....but kind of). Turkish pronunciation is different, and they even have some additional letters including o, s, i, c, and g accompanied by little tics in various places, of which my sleek Toshiba keyboard can't handle. The "i"s in Eczacibasi shouldn't have a dot on top, which means they are pronounced "uh;" the "s" has a tic underneath, pronounced "sh;" and the "c" is like a j as in "jelly." Okay, ready? ....Ej-za-juh-ba-shuh.... Now, commence with the rocking, keep repeating, and you'll get it!
Anyway, Gokhan showed me around, let me do my thing, and upon serving me his "famous mocha" (no chocolate in Turkish mochas, just a unique steeping process), we gushed over our shared passion for coffee. I also learned more about Eczacibasi (Good job!) and pro clubs in general, especially the fact that most in Europe are set up like club programs in the states. I guess the word "club" never gave that away for me--nice, Trac. There are multiple developmental teams within the Eczacibasi system including youth, junior, and senior level teams. There is a lot of overlap, though. In fact, we have 30 plus women mixing with 18-year-old on our top, senior team!
After going over setting calls and signals, he drove me back to my random, taxi-drivers-don't-even-know-where-it-is hotel and I had lunch in the perpetually empty restaurant downstairs. I stuck to the same simple meal--salad, chicken, rice--so I'd be well fueled for my first practice. Lena, the team manager, and her boyfriend picked me up for practice, but stopped at Starbucks on the way. Having always avoided delicious coffee treats right before practice, I actually opted out of a free coffee drink, grabbing a bottled water instead.
While there we ran into two of my teammates-to-be (remember, up until this moment I was a secret!), and one of them happened to be the young one, Nesh, I was meant to replace. I was a bit surprised by their genuine smiles and positive energy as we exchanged hellos. Upon sitting down, they spouted off in intense Turkish and wild facial expressions (Nesh has big eyes like me), but Lena assured me that they were just talking about the match last night (an important one, of which they lost in four sets). Later, Nesh and I laughed about my hair as I adored her purple boots, and as if time stopped for a moment, I fell in awe once again of the faithfulness of God. The night before I had be praying for a positive encounters with my new teammates, especially with her.
We arrived back at the gym, where I met Beppe (Guiseppe Cuccarini) our Italian head coach. Beaming a contagious smile, he welcomed me in broken English. Lena then led me into....duh duh duh...the locker room. It was pretty awkward at first, but, hey, that makes sense. Who the heck is this new frizzy chick, anyway--thinkin' she can come onto our team mid season and shake it up? Shoot, team dynamics are fragile and change is often shocking, so when the elder Serbian middle Vesna introduced herself, I totally respected it and laughed along with everyone else.
"I am Vesna," she said. "Super middle."
So we geared up. It felt good to pull on my kneepads and strap in the ankles again! It's also funny that Nancy and I are the only ones to wear spandex to practice. Everyone else wears gray, cotton basketball shorts and no active ankles or tape. The team went to do a few lifts before the "recovery" ball practice would commence. Beppe called me over to warmup with one of our male trainers. "Couples," he said--which is the term here for pepper. Okay, so I won't go into all the details, but let's just say he kicked the poo out of me. It was like a 20 minute tryout burst of intense peppering, two coaches vs me on defense, and block footwork. I was red, heaving, and thirsty. Ha! It was great, though. I was still full of joy during the whole thing--not even kidding. My poor body was disintegrating, but my mind wanted to go harder!
I may have arrived here a little rusty on finesse, but I didn't arrive out of shape. I was glad to notice I recovered well during the rest of practice, not getting out of breath again. The free hitting was decent. Balls to the chest was the norm, as my jumping felt pretty good. I do need to stay off the net and get that quick timing back. All in all, practice went well, and I know I gave it everything I had!
There are many differences in how things are run out here compared to what I'm used to or what I expect. For example, players don't shag or hand balls--it's just not expected or desired at all. I find myself ready and wanting to, but also I don't want to offend by stepping out. Also, I was shocked to see how many balls fall while professionals just watch them or make only a half move. There was a lot of encouragement given among teammates, "Bravo!" and our trainer Dani's 3-year-old daughter (who speaks 3+ languages) seems to be the center of joy for everyone in the club. She weaved among players during our pre-practice huddle and ran out water bottles to us during stretching and warmup. I've never been one to gawk over other people's kids (yeah, believe it or not), but I'm making efforts to share in this joy with them. :-)
After practice, Nancy and I slapped on three bags each of blocked ice, showered, and made our way across the Bosphorus after practice with USA teammates Angie McGinnis and Heather Hughes. We met up with other Americans playing in Istanbul, a couple of the USA men's players and our other USA teammate Ogonna Nnamani, for a Super Bowl party, even though the game started at 1:30 am and most of left before. It was a lot of fun, and it was there that I savored my first (and second and third?) strogwafle from Holland.
...Now it's as if the persistent hotel workers are drilling into my skull. Time to go. Time to eat. Time to pray for 3:30 to come sooner.
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