Evendays

Friday, Wife, daughter and I headed off towards Lille, France after the worship time at the nearby retirement home. We had decided to stop at the just-over-halfway point in a cheapy hotel. This was our first stay at a Formule 1, those modular, prefabbed hotels that cost 50 bucks to stay the night. It worked out great, surprisingly, nice and quiet though there were many people. I hear it’s not always the case. 

We made it to the wedding in plenty of time: an outdoor event, which is an act of faith. Northern France is not Southern California, and you could count the number of dry days these last 3 weeks on one finger.

Wish I had a picture of the couple: They met at church camp about 10 years ago, an on again-off-again kind of thing, and are now married at 24 years old. They have both been camp counselors themselves, and are very active in serving Christ and his church.

The party was still going on when we left at 20 past midnight. I had drunk 3 coffees. The seven-hour trip actually took 7 hours. Wife and daughter caught some sleep. I listened to sermons (which actually tends to keep me awake) and made it through the night with little difficulty. Light was already showed itself in the eastern sky at 4 am, a welcome sight. We were home  by 7:30 and promptly took a nap.

All-night driving reminds me of college days, and I wasn’t sure to still be up to the task, but sometimes the college kid lives on.

Last Saturday evening My Irish Buddy Paul (MIBP) invited me to the VIP section of the UBS Arena, which is actually an outdoor theater where they’ve set up a huge screen to watch the Euro 2008 matches. Why did MIBP invite me? His wife doesn’t like European Football. Yes, I know. Hard to believe. Why did MIBP have VIP tickets to share and not me? I think it has something to do with yearly salary and position in the community. But I digress.

VIP means you get greeted at the door by well dressed people; to sit wherever you want in the covered seating section looking down on those who had to pay for their seats and on the thousand who decided to stand for free; most importantly, you get to eat and drink whatever they’ve got on hand until you make yourself, or others, sick.

Before arriving, MIBP and I were thinking: What does a bank that just lost 40 gazillion dollars in the sub-prime market offer for dinner? Fish sticks? Hot dogs? All the water you can drink and a boloney sandwich? Well, don’t despair. There was all that stuff just mentioned (except for the fish sticks and the hot dogs) and lots, lots more. Since the second game was Greece-Russia, there were only 12 of us trying to finish the desserts that had been prepared for 200 people.

Though I never made it to a real stadium, I got to enjoy both MIBP and the Euro 2008 ambiance, and waddle home content that I hadn’t had to stand for 3 hours.

Now if I could just get VIP treatment from the airlines.

We picked up Jack at the airport late Monday. He’d been in Spain visiting Juan Monroy, an old friend. He wanted to come see Wife and me, even though it took going through London Heathrow, a major mess these days. Love knows no bounds…

Jack has meant much to our family, especially to Wife’s parents. He made many things possible in Ukrainian ministry by his support through the years. He and Joyce also had a little place up in Gruyère which served as a retreat, building project and getaway to Wife’s dad.

When Wife went to ACU from Switzerland, Jack and Joyce made sure she was taken care of, giving helpful advice and serving as a home away from home. When Wife went to Costa Rica for the missionary apprenticeship program, they made it possible.

For 23 plus years we have been the recipients of their love and generosity.

I came home last night to find Jack, Wife and Son 1 following the France-Italy game. In the kitchen there was a gift from Jack: An empty, lidless, label-less, 18 oz. tin can, with these word penned in felt tip: GOD CAN. Then on the back in smaller letters: “Let Him.” In the tin go all burdens I can’t handle.

I could use gallon can!

Switzerland played the gracious host and was the first of 16 teams to be eliminated from advancement into the next round of the European Cup, leaving the spot in their group to either Turkey or Czech Republic. Portugal has already won the group.

Wife and I went to a tent where about 300 gathered in the name of UEFA for the first part of last night’s match. It was noisy, smoky, hot, hard to understand the speaker… A lot like church. I felt strange chanting “Hopp Suisse” for a team that was 140 miles away, but what the heck, we yelled anyway and were encouraged when the Turko-Swiss YAKIM scored a go-ahead goal against Turkey. Other chances passed by, but we finished the first 45 minutes ahead. For good, we hoped.

We biked home and watched the second half in the quiet of our own home with Son 1 and Daughter. We saw our lead disappear, then we fell behind in the final minutes. Commentators complained. We wept. (Well, sort of…)

Now, since that stress is over, the kids only have to worry about final exams (a different stress). And they still have another team in the tournament: Whoever is playing against France.

Stéphane Fournier wrote an article in the local paper and asked the question: Will a spirit of catastrophe threaten [Team Nati]? Bernard Challandes, wise coach of FC Zurich replied:

No. I don’t believe it will. What is essential for the players to do is to hold on to what is positive. There were some positive things shown by [the team’s] level of performance. I can imagine very well Michel Pont [assistant coach] making a highlight video of one-on-one actions where Swiss players excelled and other actions that offered opportunities for possible goals. In fact, I believe he’s already prepared it.

The other aspect is mental. [The players] have the ability to manage these events. Frei [injured in the first half, see picture above] will not announce tomorrow: I’m quitting football. They have the right to talk about bad luck and to express their frustration because of it, but they don’t have the right to wallow in it. They can even find in it their motivation. It’s just like everyday life.

I find his words refreshing and applicable to my own life. It’s just too easy for me to become cynical about stuff, about people, about ministry, about me…

So, excuse me for a minute, I’m off to work on my high-light video. 

Last night, Switzerland lost the opening match of Euro 2008 after playing a terrific game against Czech Republic. The Nati lost their best offensive player to a knee injury in the 44th minute. Sad. The Czechs scored in their only real opportunity. Very sad. Then the ref missed a Czech hand in the penalty box (hand over his head—how did the ref miss that?) which would have allowed a relatively easy tie… Very, very sad.

Yes, it was a sad evening.

Today, the Swiss tennis-man Roger Federer will play in the men’s French Open final against his nemesis, Raphael Nadal. My prediction? Federer plays so well that Nadal forfeits the match in the third set. Federer begins to cry and is so emotional that he puts his pants on backwards. NIKE has a fit.

Oh well, one can dream, can’t he?

– The match is over and I’m the one who’s crying. Only one male finalist has been beaten more soundly in the history of the French Open. Ah, it’s a sad, sad day… (Brady)

When the Portuguese national football (soccer) team arrived in Switzerland, there were thousands of people, mostly Portuguese residents in Switzerland, there to meet them. Hundreds of motorcycles followed the team bus from Geneva to Neuchâtel, a 90 minute trip, where the team is staying between matches. One of Wife’s friends said that she happened to be on that same freeway that same day and on every overpass, EVERY overpass, there were crowds of Portuguese fans, draped in Portuguese flags, waving at the passing cars, dancing and drinking, waiting to celebrate the under-passing of the Portuguese team. Nearly 10,000 cheering fans were waiting for them in Neuchâtel (a city of only 40,000). A day or two later, the Portuguese played an inter-squad match in the local stadium, two 30 minute halves, and 12,000 people came to see them practice.

Just for your information: When the French arrived on Wednesday, 50 fans met them at the airport.

What one of the most popular Euro T-shirts seen around Switzerland says? “I root for Switzerland and for any team that beats France.”

Vive le foot.

Sorry, but European football may be a reoccurring motif in the weeks to come. The European Cup of Nations starts on Friday night. Teams have been arriving in Switzerland over the last couple of days. Some of the host cities to the teams are swamped with fans who have shown up to get a glimpse of their favorite stars. There are 1000 police on standby in case (or when) the soccer riots break out. Flags are everywhere, especially Swiss, Portuguese and Spanish colors. The final warm-up games took place last night and soon the craziness will begin.

I’ve never lived in a town that hosted the Olympics or been in a city that hosted a World Cup match (though I was in the USA in 1990 during that World Cup, but there wasn’t much fervor) so all this enthusiasm is a bit beyond me. But I will get caught up in the thrill, especially if the Swiss get into the Final 8. It won’t excite me so much that I’ll buy a new, HD flat screen TV (sales in Europe are rocketing thanks to sports, but our old one works just fine, thanks), but I may put on my Swiss T-shirt and get a tear in my eye while mumbling the words to the Swiss National Anthem.

An influx of visitors from other cities, along with a handful of local members, gave us a wonderful moment of worship and fellowship on Sunday morning. Pancakes were then shared by all, then we drove an hour in the evening for worship in English, a rather rare experience for us, with the church in Geneva. The singing was great, and we even got invited for dinner afterwards!

I am tired of this rain though. It’s falling every day. Fortunately it stopped long enough for a 10k race on Saturday afternoon. Wife clocked near 47 minutes, finishing in the top 25% of her category. I barely broke the 50 percentile with a blazing, and happy, 45:13. Only the "real" runners were there for this one: No ambiance; small crowds; no bands; no tee-shirts. Just a bottle of water and an apple at the finish line. And a spaghetti dinner for those who wanted to wait another thirty minutes. But I literally stunk and we decided to head home.