Author: Jess Boctor

Matthew 7:4

How can you say to your brother, “Let me take the speck out of your eye, when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?”

This verse has taken on a new meaning for Paul and I this past week. Saturday night I came home from an event at church to find Paul with his left eye red and swollen.

“I have a splinter in my eye.”

As the good wife that I am, at first I thought he was making a big deal out of nothing. However, after he showed me the very clear mark on his eye and he tried to wash it out for fifteen minutes to no avail, we realized this speck was more serious than I thought.

After consulting with a friend from Mosaik who is also a doctor we were directed to go to the University Clinic. So at 8PM Paul and I headed into the city and away to the University Clinic. We were successful in navigating the dark streets and finding the correct building for the Augenartzt (eye doctor).

It wasn’t a long wait, in fact we ran into the doctor on the way to the waiting room and she ushered us into her office right away. She put some eye drops into Paul’s eye and pulled him up to her microscope.

Since the doctor had the right tools and training, she was able to find the splinter and remove it right away. She had to go back for some rust which had started to form on his cornea; things which Paul and I would never have been able to see if we had tried to remove the splinter at home.

It makes me wonder how many times we go into others lives and try to “help” them without the right tools and training. I wonder how often I have blundered and blinded them instead of helping to relieve someone’s pain I have just instead.

I wonder what things I have missed because of the planks in my own eyes. Those things I can’t quite see and block my vision, those nameless things which hurt.

I wish I had been able to take pictures of the procedure because the doctor really was amazing, but it didn’t seem appropriate at the time. Paul’s eye has been recovering very well this week. Other than some redness where the splinter was he is all better and we both have a new view of how difficult removing a splinter really is.

I am searching for words to give the correct picture of the transition which I am going through, and nothing really seems to fit in my mind other than negotations. I have visual image in my mind of a large table where I sit with others and we send pieces of papers across to one another.

I can give three hours to this project on Tuesday.

I can let you see two inches deep into my heart.

I want to have breakfast with you, but we have to meet at the train station.

My life has taken on a new shape, new local, and many new relationships. I try to steer clear of overpromising my time and underdelivering. I try to carve out space for those who I want to get to know better. I am trying to give words to the difficult discussions which have to happen; and to let others see me without giving my heart away.

I am negotating new terms on my life.

I wanted this post to be a purpose-oriented how-to about intentionally investing in relationships; but as I sought advise to give I realized I am in desperate need of advise myself. I am seeking a way to invest wisely in those around me. I want to prioritize, to love freely and some how do both without becoming a maniac. I want to be a good friend and servant. I desire for time and good will to act cohesively.

I want to go where I am invited.

I want to know where to put my bids.

Continuing the adventure, 

Jessica

 

So you all don’t think I have been sitting on my thumbs since moving, do you?

Well if you do, here is proof otherwise. I have been quite the busy book binder. The first book was a birthday gift (hence only one photo, after he unwrapped it) for one of our new friends here in Düsseldorf, Jochen. The graphic on the cover read Faith, Hope, Love.

The second set of books are my floppy disc books. I did a series and some of them are even in a shop here!

The last book with the flower motif and key was I made for a new mother. Right before her due date some of us ladies came together and wrote encouraging thoughts, scriptures and love for her in a journal. I was the lucky journal maker.

 

So a week or so ago Paul and I went down to Traben-Trarbach to see my family and help them out with some house cleaning.

Traben-Trarbach is a little village along the Mosel river where my family (three generations ago) comes from. We still have the family house there and it is where they congregate in summer time or whenever someone from the states visits. 

It is also the family storage unit of sorts. There is quite an assortment of things from styles-gone-by in the house. The family was getting together to throw some of these old things out (and of course I brought a few right back). Here is a photo montage of our weekend:

Continuing the adventure, 

Jessica

A few weeks ago my dad asked me and Paul, “So when are you going to start suffering for Jesus?”

We were in the midst of a conversation about our plans for the coming weeks. Plans to visit Paris, followed by a weekend trip with my family and many other good things. Our life in Germany was going well, but like all adventurers we eventually get stuck in a mud hole.

Today, I would say, was the first day of suffering.

Don’t get worried about having to about bailing us out or recalling us home to California. Paul and I still have a roof over our heads, access to food and water, and a community which supports and loves us. In many ways it is very tempting not to write about today at all as our ‘sufferings’ seem trivial, but I think it would defeat the purpose of this blog if I only wrote about the good stuff. I don’t want to paint any adventure of Jesus as simple or plastic-faced-happy. I will leave that image of Christianity to others.

The truth is today was just one of those days which started out crappy, got better, got worse, got better, and got worse again. Paul and I had made plans for Christmas shopping and a relaxing stroll through the city Weihnachtsmark (Christmas Market). These plans were over thrown earlier this week as we realized I needed some paperwork for my job and we needed to register Paul for school. So we were already off schedule when we planning our day yesterday. 

Then last night all I dreamed about was Trier and my grandmother who I still miss very instensly. This morning didn’t go so well when I woke up.

From there the day just got more discouraging. 

I need a tax ID so my boss can register me as his employee. So last night I looked up in Düsseldorf’s city website where I can get one. The website said the Bürgerbüro (Citizens Office), so this morning we went there. I was immediately told I need to go to the Finanzamt (Financial Office) in another part of town. I also need a Sozialversicherungnummer (Social Insurance Number) and since I have never worked in Germany I don’t have one. Aparently, the only way to get one is to buy insurance. So I will also have to wait on that one as well.

While we were there we decided to see how long the wait would be to inquire about Paul’s work permit. He turned in the paper work for his job last week and was told it could take up to four weeks to process. This puts Paul’s job in jeopardy as the manager most likely won’t hold the job for four weeks. It is a frustrating catch twenty two as the Ausländersamt won’t give Paul a work permit until he has a job but very few places will hire him without one. We waited for about forty-five minutes and then gave up.

Next stop was the Volkshochschule (Community College) to try and register Paul for a beginners German class. The problem is that he has to take a placement test before they will register him, even though we want to sign him up for the first class. The test is not until later this afternoon.

So Paul and I decided to try and rush to the Altstadt (Old Town) and get our Christmas shopping done. Now we were under a time crunch and it wasn’t very fun in the beginning but eventually we got our grove back (this is the first “got better” part of our day). We even found a new favorite restaurant which serves Lebanese food.

 Paul and I decide to head back to the school to take this test. We arrive early so we decided to stop by the Ausländersamt one more time too. This time we had a little bit more luck in the fact that no one else was there so we didn’t have to wait long. That was all the luck we had though. When one of the workers asked what we wanted I explained we were just trying to see if we could get an update on Paul’s work permit. She said the permit takes 6-8 weeks and not to contact them, they would contact us. Frustrating. 

I left feeling a little more hopeless than I expected. 

Next was the test for Paul’s language class. Now, I also decided to take the test since I am considering applying to a program at the university. The results were a disaster.

See, we know Paul doesn’t speak, read, or write in German. So we went in knowing this was just another hoop for him to jump through in order to get his visa. It’s a good thing for him to have to take a German class; he needs to learn German. The test was a formality and went how we expected it to.

I, on the other hand, supposedly speak, read, and write in German. 

The test kicked my ass.

Hard.

I scored much much lower than I thought I would. The test was all about grammer and half of the instructions I didn’t fully understand what they wanted. When I sat across from the man correcting the test he said to me, “Du hast deine Abschluß im Germanistik gemacht? Wenn war das? Es ist ein Schame, viellecht hast du viel vergessen?”

“You have a degree in German? When did you do that? It’s a shame, maybe you forgot alot?”

I left the school feeling like someone had just knifed me. Poor Paul tried to break the tension and be joking but I simply told him he wasn’t allowed to talk. I just wanted to cry; to mourn this skill which I thought I had.

Really what I wanted was to go to my mom’s house and sit on her couch. I wanted to tell her what a horrible and discouraging day I had and that I didn’t know what to do. I wanted her to pat my hand and hug me and tell me it would be alright.

My mom’s house is thousands of miles away.

Standing on the streets of Düsseldorf I began to think about my dad’s words and suffering for Jesus. The truth is, this adventure is difficult. It would be so much easier to be in California where I am considered a well educated and intelligent person who can clearly communicate complexe ideas. It would be easier to be in a place where Paul and I don’t need permits or visas in order to get jobs to support ourselves. It would be more comforting to have my mom, dad, siblings and friends close by. People I know will always sympathize and be ready to drown my sorrows with red wine and love. It would be so much easier if things were like before.

As I was processing all this I began to think of the other Paul, the apostel. He is one of the people who may have suffered the most for Jesus and had the greatest impact on the world. Paul suffered in ways we Boctors can barely fathom; but tonight I wondered if his thoughts were the same as mine.

I wonder if beyond the hunger and imprisionment the most haunting thought was that life was easier before. I wonder if remembering how easy it was to have servant prepare his meals ever added an extra sharpness to his hunger. I wonder if in the darkness of his cell the memory of a cushion for his head made the stone floor harder.

Thankfully, my Paul and I don’t have to know hunger and imprisionment just bureaucrats and formalities. We trust God that He brought us here for a reason and we will be able to stay as long as He wants us here. Adventures have good days and bad days; we will continue to choose to trust the Author of our story.

 

PS. The evening did get better. We finished most of our Christmas shopping and did eventually get to stroll through the city.

After a friend shared Sunni Brown’s “Doodlers Unite” TED video with me, I decided to be more intentional about doodling. I thought I might share some of the results with you.

 

Last week Paul and I were stressed out about money. We didn’t have any clue how we were going to get jobs. We felt the dreadful deadline of March approaching (since that was how far we approximated our funds would last).

This week Paul and I hopeful about our finances. I was offered a job today and Paul has an interview on Monday. March seems like it will be just another month to usher in springtime.

What a difference a week makes.

It started on Tuesday. Paul had seen a flyer looking for help at a market near the house where we live. I had also seen a gallery for jewelry made from repurposed objects. So armed with all the optimism we could muster and six of my floppy disc books we headed out into the big wide world.

And fell flat on our faces.

The market was looking for someone who could at least speak German but would prefer if they could speak both German and Russian. That put Paul out of the game. The gallery we went to was very nice but only wanted to sell jewelry and accessory items. No books. Dang.

Paul and I wandered the streets of the Altstadt while recovering from our wounds. Double denial, double slam. It didn’t feel so good.

However, as we wandered around I found a shop which was interesing. It had hipster written all over it. I went inside and introduced myself to Nora, one of the shop owners. I told the very very very brief version of my story: I am an artist who moved to Düsseldorf from California and I made books. I showed her my floppy disc books and she seemed interested in possibly selling them. I left my contact information and a book with her for an example. I will check back next week.

We left and I felt a little proud of myself. For me, the hardest part of the art world is being my own promoter. I usually leave this up to Paul or my friends. The problem right now is Paul doesn’t speak German and my friends aren’t here. I have to do it myself.

While I was basking in my own bravery Paul and I passed an Irish Pub with a sign in the window, “English speaking help wanted. Apply within.”

Within we went.

We met Anna, ordered two cokes and inquired about the jobs. Anna was very nice and asked us to write down all our information on a Bitburger notepad. This was our application. She seemed pretty confident we would be contacted by the owner soon.

I also decided to try posting some proposals for writing gigs on a freelance site. Imagine how stoked I am two of the three proposals have responded! Someone is going to PAY money to ME to WRITE! It’s not much, but it is alot of practice and a way to bolster my writing portfolio. Either way I will be getting PAID to WRITE!

As if I needed all my good news in one afternoon, the owner of the pub called that same afternoon. He didn’t have a job for Paul right now, but he did have one for me. He asked me to come in today to do a three hour trial (which seems to be standard procedure for these types of jobs in Germany). I went in, did my trial and will be starting next week!

Today, while I was doing my trial by fire, Paul was hustling too. He went door to door looking for a job. He has a trial of his own working in a kitchen on Monday. So if all goes well we will both be employed by next week. It may be small starts but it at least gets our feet in some doors.

What a difference a week makes.