My top 10 non-fiction books

So I am finally getting around to sharing my list of top non-fiction books that have most influenced me. Many of these were books I read back in high-school, but had significant influence in my spiritual and emotional growth as a young adult. A few are from later on. It is really is hard to choose my top ten because I have read so many good books over the years, but I am going to force myself to choose.

September reflections

I spent two, maybe three hours, last week writing on a blog. It just didn’t turn out, which is why nothing was posted last week. So this is attempt number #2 and its Monday. I am not sure where the time goes. Its already September and I am 24 weeks into this pregnancy. Over half way there. Its basically still summer here in Norway, but the days are getting colder and rainier. No frost yet, so the flowers are still blooming and there is still a few apples on the trees and berries on the bushes. The kids boots are crusted with mud each day after school and dripping rain suits hang in our entry hall. We still sleep with our windows open at night, but all snuggled under our down Norwegian duvet comforters.

Why I think I will always live as an alien

No matter how well you adjust a part of you will always feel foreign. As an American in Norway I will always feel a bit louder, a bit more direct, a bit more opinionated and a bit more emotional. At first I think I gave myself too much pressure to adapt and become “norwegian” but now I am learning the balance of being myself and keeping my own personality and cultural traits while at the same time embracing and honoring the culture I live in.

I will go

It was the drumbeat, slow, steady and heavy, vibrating up from the depths of the mountains, echoing off the stone valley walls. It bounced and thudded and hammered through the atmosphere towards the sky. A second rhythm followed, quieter but faster than the first. The pounding of a thousand pairs of feet, racing up the cleared paths on the mountain slopes. The runners faces were set like flint, eyes burning with ardor and calloused hands clenching iron brands dripping with black oil. On their foreheads was tattooed in dark ink the name of the king.

Why I am no longer afraid to share the gospel

Growing up as Christian, one of the scariest things in my mind was sharing the gospel. It was so awkward talking about heaven and hell with strangers on the street and passing out those little black and white tracks that you basically just dictated to the blinking, mostly nice strangers who stared at you apologetically.

He lived a full life…

I have not experienced much death in my life. But, for the first time, someone closer to me has passed away. Just this last Thursday, my family on my mom’s side, released my grandfather, Papa Ben, to heaven. It was peaceful and full of joy.