A beautiful story about expat life, love and art in Germany
“I remember how my fingers itched to sketch the beauty I experienced, the first time I visited Germany. I was 21, traveling alone for the first time in my life. Of course, there was a boy waiting for me when I arrived on the other side of the ocean, so I was not alone for long. Turns out my hands were always occupied by his, too busy to work in the sketchbook I carried with me everywhere.
We had the same circle of friends in college, but had only been dating for a few months when he went home for the summer. Miraculously, my conservative family and friends supported me in spending a few months in Europe with a boy they barely knew. The Baptist college we attended even gave me course credit for traveling abroad! Everything fell into place for me, a quiet, shy homebody to become brave and to take a risk.
Being alone together in a foreign country sure sounds romantic, but with my lack of German language skills and melancholic disposition, an aching homesickness set in quickly. It is safe to say that Germany did not bring out the best in me. It did, however, bring out the best in us. Germany proved to me that this boy was a keeper. He didn’t freak out when I cried a lot. He took care of me, translated everything, made me laugh. He was sweet and patient, close to his family and kind to his mom and his grandmother. He was himself, more so than I had ever noticed before, because he was home.
Exactly ten years ago this summer, I fell in love in Germany. In a way, I fell in love with Germany too, because it is the place that made my husband who he is. It took us seven years, but after that first summer together, we made our way back to call it home for a while. Yes, there has been that same aching homesickness, the same melancholy intensified by often-gray-skies. However, there is a certain joy too: the joy of discovering a home inside your heart, and in the hearts of the people who love you; a home that can never be displaced in time or space.
After two years of living here, Germany is beginning to bring out the best–instead of the worst–in me. Somehow, I am becoming more myself within the challenge of making a home away from home. For this space in time, I can honestly say that it only seems right that here we are, sending down roots and raising our little family in Hamburg. My hands are still quite full, occupied by the hands of that same boy-turned-man who has been my husband for nine years this December and busy caring for the two small daughters love has added unto us. But the biggest reason I am now becoming my best “me” is that no matter what is going on in this crazy life, no matter how sad or displaced I sometimes feel, I no longer resist the urge to sketch, to paint, to cut up paper and piece it all together. My hands need to work out what my heart sometimes cannot; this is what keeps me going, keeps me smiling and laughing at the future. “
