Surprises

I'm a person who hates surprises. Its not that I hate being surprised, but a) I am not patient and b) I hate it when people withhold information from me. I'm not proud of this, and honestly it means I suck a lot of joy from wondeful things. All the same, I am who I am.

When I was eight I found my parent's stash of hidden Christmas presents and discovered my mom got me the kid friendly sewing machine I only brought up one hundred times a day for all of Advent. That was also the year that my little brother Turtle was born. Turns out he was born a bit defective. That sounds terrible. He had jaundice so he had to go back to the hospital for a few days to soak up some UV rays in an incubator. It just so happened one of those days was Christmas. So Dad and the other kids opened up our presents at home and took the stockings to the hospital to hang with mom and Turd. I was glad it was just my dad that year for only one reason- Mom would have totally know I was faking my surprise at the sewing machine. Dad, so I thought, totally bought it. Turns out my dad is incredibly smart so he probably knew all along. He was probably busy thinking about more pressing issues like, oh, I don't know, he newborn son and wife in the hospital on Christmas.
What did I spend my morning thinking about? The sewing machine. And candy.
I was an eight year old with great priorities.
That was also the one Christmas I didn't make my mom cry.
I'm pretty sure she cried a lot that Christmas, but at least it wasn't because of me. 

Every other Christmas I cried because I always expected life changing present that would instantly fulfill all of my desires in life. And they always fell short. Which made my mom feel terrible. Which then made me feel terrible. But not terrible enough to pretend that I wasn't upset.

There was the fake suede coat that wasn't real Limited Too. There was the cell phone that was just the wrong model. There was the camera that didn't have the right mega pixels. Then there was the time my dad gave my nice chocolate but I felt so fat that I cut them up into pieces so I wouldn't eat them and then he found them in the trash.
Plain and simply put- I was a brat.
By the time I was 16 my parents started just giving me money in a card for Christmas. Then I cried because I took away my mom's joy of picking out a present. I also cried because I realized my selfishness was out of control.
At the same time I didn't mind it because I could then buy whatever I wanted. But when I walked away from Target with my shiny new correct camera, I couldn't help feeling that I bought it with blood money.

Two years ago my mom asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I picked out hiking shoes I had been eyeing for some time. They were excellently reviewed, and were just what I needed to propel my limited outdoor experience to the next level.
Come Christmas morning we did our ritual of "I wonder what it is?" "Who can guess?" "Wow hiking shoes! These are great."
 I knew they would be great because I pulled them up on the computer for my mom to order a few weeks ago. When I put them on I realized they were too big. Hiking shoes have to fit just right, and these were most definitely too big. Shoot. Shoot.
So a few hours later I presented the box to my mom in tears and apologized for ruining Christmas. She assured me I didn't ruin Christmas, but I knew I did. This always happened. Even when she did everything in her power to avoid it, I still hurt her feelings.
In exchange for the too big shoes, I got a pair that carried me incredibly well until this Spring when one of our stupid awful neighborhood dogs carried one off to her lair. Karma is a female dog for sure.

Well I tell you this because Italy is teaching me to enjoy surprises; Maybe for the first time in my life. I enjoy them because I am finally finding joy in that God gives us the things we need, not want. Just like that old Rolling Stones song my mom used to sing me me only all the time. "You can't always get what you want, but you can try sometimes you might just find you get what you need."
I've been slowly learning not to trust the things I want, because they are often nothing but shadows of something so much greater.

Like how I've been praying for Christian friends here in Italy and God keeps explicitly pointing me to some very special Saints and Mary. I'm like, oh. Duh.
Or how I've been joining all of these random groups on facebook trying to meet people, and I met a huge group of wonderful University Students on a bus I wasn't supposed to be on in the first place.
Or how I was trying to go to a Latin Mass but I couldn't find the Church so I went to a different one and it was a once a year Latin Mass with a visiting Gregorian Chant choir. It just so happened this Church is where the doctrine of the Church and the Latin Mass were both established in the 1500s.
Or the fact that I was praying for friends that make me laugh and then five year old Maggie pooped on the grass like a dog near a busy soccer field just because she wanted to. And then she started showing her friends some of the exercises I do, like burpees and such. Her form was excellent but her friends were all, "What the heck is this girl doing?"
I laughed so hard I cried, and I didn't think that was ever going to happen here.

Mistakes Mistakes

The other weekend I went to visit a friend I met on facebook. Not sketchy. Ok mildly; but she is a real person and worked at the same camp as some of my best friends and she is a post huge southern football school grad current au-pair so it was the best. After visiting her I missed my train to go back home and the next one wasn't coming for two more hours. Claire and I were left hanging out at Verona train station McDonalds playing cards for an hour and a half. In the meantime a guy in the corner was staring at us, and he wouldn't stop. So we left. When we were sitting in chairs near the platforms he walked by us and smiled. Then he walked by again. Then again. We later saw him waiting by the same doors that Claire needed to walk through to get to her car to drive home. Both of us started getting a bit little wigged out at this point.

The reality is he didn't say anything to us; and it may have been totally innocent. But our Taken (and common sense) given red flags went up, and I know we both felt the same thing.
A little in over our heads. A little bit like when you get caught playing with your mom's makeup and perfume without first asking permission.

Or like when you've begged to watch the PG-13 thriller when you're only 11, and then you can't sleep at night.
Or when you finally get your first babysitting job and you accidentally light the microwave on fire.
Or when you beg your mom to let you start shaving and you gash your leg open with your new razor and shaky hand.
Ok I'm done.

I mean this was the stuff in movies; and I can play tough. I can pretend to be a cultured fearless traveler all day long; but the minute that guy smiled at us with eyes that lingered a bit too long, I wondered why on earth I got up from my comfy brown couch at home. Why did I take off my groutfit (grey outfit), put on a dress, and hop across the pond to this place where I have to take trains in the first place?

We quickly devised a plan. We walked out of the side doors to her car, and she drove me back to those doors where I quickly got out and walked straight to the platform where my train was conveniently already boarding.
I never saw him again, and neither did she.
I safely rode my train home, and she drove home to her family.

When I arrived in Trento I realized I had thirty minutes to wait for the last bus of the night to come and take me back up the mountain to my house. Then I realized it was Sunday, and the last bus on Sunday left an hour ago.
Great. And my host parents were in bed, and how was I going to explain that their irresponsible au pair was stranded at the train station?
So I decided to walk. When I called my host mom to tell her I was walking she asked me why I didn't take a taxi. Of course, a taxi. Why didn't I think of that? I'll tell you why- because I am a small town ignorant American girl who doesn't know anything about the real world.
I've never in my life even had the option to take a taxi. Or a city bus. Or a train. I publicly complain about gas prices, that's the extent of my public transportation problems.

After I paid an arm and a leg for a taxi, I arrived home to a stern talking to about planning my trips ahead of time for my own safety. It was stern and out of loving concern for my well being.

In that moment I felt about 5 inches tall. But I needed it because I really don't know anything about living in a city. And yes I'm learning, but learning usually comes to me in the form of messing up and realizing I shouldn't do said thing again. And that sucks.

And yes I am small town, and always will be at heart. I loved my childhood and the loving shelter it provided me from a lot of hate and hurt in the world. But all the while I dreampt of leaving my bubble and experiencing a big city, or a new culture, or something/anything exciting.I mean who doesn't? Its the reason people love Pixar's Up so much. In many ways I stopped at the possibility. I could never really imagine what it would actually be like when I got there. It was just the act of going that excited me.

If I'm learning anything here its that I am still the same person. I still enjoy the same things, and the same things give me anxiety. I still cry every time I get in "trouble" by someone in authority. And I still have to climb mountains to convince myself its ok to make mistakes.

But some highlights of the past few weeks:
-Meeting Claire from Texas who lives in Verona.
-She is basically Hallie Parker- her family owns a vinyard and the sickest pool ever overlooking Verona. Its fine.
- Meeting a group of University Students on a bus to go hiking, and then spending the whole day with them.
-Kids start school tomorrow. Praise!
- Telling myself I'll start reviewing Italian....tomorrow.
- The mountains here, just wow.
- Learning to love quiet time with God. Its funny I thought I learned this a few summers ago, but LOL at that.
-Just going on walks.
- Getting hugs from the kids and them telling me they want me to be apart of their family forever. 

So here's to a new week and a new round of mistakes! Its not learnin' if its not hurtin' a bit.
Was the Verona trip worth it? Oh heck yeah. Will I ever miss my train again? I hope to everything no.