When we come down for breakfast I am made aware of one of the many blessings of choosing Switzerland's L'Abri. As God would have it, we are here at the beginning of a term. The beauty of that being that no one knows anybody else. We are all new students. If we were here for a few days in the middle of a term we might feel like outsiders, as I imagine certain inside jokes and special bonds are inevitable after months of community living.

As it is we get to hear every one's story; how they heard about L'Abri and why they have come. There is the young British couple, both doctors and planning on giving a year of their lives to serve in Rwanda. There's the sweet guy from Finland who is not sure what to do with his life but is seeking God with all his heart and hopes to find direction during his stay here. Surprisingly, the majority of the students are Americans, apparently this is a rarity. All of them are wonderful. I am especially encouraged (for Caitlin's sake) at the number of kind, intelligent and funny single guys. Wow. The song "It's Raining Men, Hallelujah" runs through my mind. Not that she's looking, but it's just nice to know they're out there.

It's during this time of sharing I would give almost anything to be more like Caitlin. Her ability to draw people out is nothing short of brilliant. She has a genuine desire to know everything about people, but she's just as willing to share her own life and does so in such an engaging manner that they hang on her every word. I know I'm a proud mom, but I am convinced her particular brand of charisma is a rare gift. It takes me months to make the connections she makes in a few minutes. I don't doubt that she will maintain them either.

After breakfast we are given a tour and given some general rules and expectations. On a number of occasions we are reminded to pick up after ourselves as our "mothers' aren't here." Ahem! Someone's mother is here. It turns out Switzerland is a very expensive country to live in. Conservation, especially of water and electricity, is of utmost importance. Only two showers or baths per week are allowed and using a blow dryer or a curling iron could overwhelm the electrical system. Unfortunately, I'm not a low maintenance gal...I only feel half human without all the accoutrement's (blow dryers, hot rollers, make-up, shampoo, hair spray). It's not like I can use any of it on the sly either. I can just imagine causing the electricity to go out...the cat would be out of the bag when I suddenly appear with my big hair. No, I had to resign myself to a few days of showcasing my smaller than average head with my hair lying close to my skull.

The chalet we're staying in is a constant reminder of my sweet Brett. Before being converted over to housing for L'Abri students it was a children's home...way back in the days when special needs children weren't kept at home. The main bath on the second floor has a row of little showers against the wall. I imagine that they were designed so that they could wheel the children right up under the shower heads. Aww.

Each day we are assigned to work half the day and study the other half. Another beautiful gift of our timing is that Thursday is the only free day (plus a half day on Sunday). Our second day here is Thursday...and it's Caitlin's birthday. They provide us with packed lunches and we are on our own until dinner. We hike as a group into the nearby village and then high up into the Alps. We are blessed with sights, sunshine and fellowship beyond our wildest expectations.

This place is sooooo up Caitlin's alley. I know if she didn't have a job to go home to she would stay and Tommy-girl and I would be on our own. As it is she wants to stay as long as possible and instead of leaving in time to spend the night in Rome, she decides "we" will drive through the night. I kind of hope word might get out that I'll be driving all night and maybe get a light work load on Friday--or even a pass. Twas not to be the case. I am put to work dusting and vacuuming and when I finish with that, some heavy duty weeding. It makes me feel old and stiff and almost worthy of my (rather scandalous) decision to skip study time in favor of a hot bath. As I languish in the big, comfortable tub, I feel like I am enjoying a little slice of Heaven. The shutters are wide open to the fresh air and beautiful Alps. A charming British girl (but then, aren't all British people charming?) is down the hall singing away as she irons. She has a beautiful voice and the praise songs are incredibly uplifting. Does life get any better than this?

Everyone here is just so... lovable. Truly. I don't know how else to describe it. I know it's easy to be "all that" when you're in a beautiful setting, with beautiful people, zero crime, no news, total equality in working and living conditions and infused with nothing but good things...good reading material, good conversation, movies and tapes, but I am touched in a way I can't quite define with how genuine everyone is.

"Francis and Edith Schaeffer opened up their home in faith in 1955 to be a place where people might find satisfying answers to their questions and practical demonstration of Christian care. They called it L'Abri, the French word for shelter, because they sought to provide a shelter from the pressures of a relentlessly secular 20th century. As time went by so many people came that others were called to join the Schaeffers and more branches were established."
-- a quote from L'Abri's website.

I am so thankful Caitlin and I had the opportunity to come here. I know it wouldn't have been possible if not for Bob, my mom and Dane's willingness to take care of everything at home and I am eternally grateful for their selflessness.

I am not by nature a very fearful person. I even kind of like the adrenaline rush of being slightly out of control, like skiing down a black diamond when I can barely manage a blue one. So when I say I am afraid driving in the alps you know it is a legitimate fear. We are hopelessly lost. We can't find anyone that speaks English and we can't make any sense out of the non-English, enormous map I buy. At least if all else fails, our map can double as a pup tent and we can camp out under it for the night.

We should have been onto Tommy-girl's antics sooner because her bum steers always begin with the words, "500 yards, then turn left, then a sharp right." Always. Those exact words. It's like she's too stubborn to admit she hasn't a clue which way to go, and that's her default mode. It gets to the point where just hearing her say "500 yards" (even legitimately) gets my heart racing. Oh, no...not the dreaded 500 yards again!!!

When you leave a city in Italy you pass a sign with the city's name on it and a big red "x" over it. These signs crack me up, and I never tire of announcing each city's departure, "Hey, honey... we're not in Rome anymore" or "we're not in Florence"...or...well you get the idea. Anyway, after many hours of stressful driving in the mountains, I was sure I remembered seeing a sign with "Italia" on it and a big red "x" over it...a clear signal that we'd left Italy and were now in Switzerland. I'd never even heard of the Italian alps. Caitlin isn't buying it. She logically notes we haven't passed any border patrols or anything. I refuse to believe that all of this driving in the mountains hasn't even gotten us out of Italy and I squeak out a "Yodel-ay-hee-hoo!" every so often to keep Caitlin from her luxuriant napping.

I comment that all the cliff hugging roads, narrow tunnels, steep hills and hairpin turns are making me feel a little bit like Luigi in Mario Bros. "Except," Caitlin gloomily points out, "that when you drive off a cliff in the video game, little angels pick you up and put you back on the road." Oh! Well I knew there wouldn't be any little angels picking us up...maybe big angels welcoming us into Heaven, but certainly no little ones picking us up off the side of the mountain.

After failing to even locate L'Abri's city on our giant map, I begin pleading with God to let Tommy-girl cooperate. He graciously answers my prayer and she calculates a "re-route" and we are on our way once again. Sadly, Caitlin is right about still being in Italy. We do indeed have to pass through some sort of border patrol, but it's easy, they just collect money, give us some Swiss chocolates and send us on our way.

As we get closer to L'Abri Tommy-girl directs us onto "roads" that I am sure are actually bike paths. What happens if another car comes along? The paths are so steep that it is all I can do to press on the gas and let out the clutch without stalling out and rolling back off the road...and off the side of the mountain! I am terrified. Truly. As I look back on it, it was God's providence that had us meandering all over the Italian alps for so long because if we had been driving on these bike trails in the daytime, we surely would have come across another car (or even a person) and that would have been disastrous. As it turns out, one car is expected to back up into a little turn-off and wait for the other car to pass. I cannot even imagine accomplishing such a feat. Thank you Lord for Tommy-girl's obstinacy.

Even though Tommy-girl has led us up the right mountain, we still can't find L'Abri. It's not quite 11:00 p.m. but there aren't any lights on anywhere, nor are there any cars on the road. I tell Caitlin we have no choice but to wait for a car and then frantically wave it down. I think we have a better chance with Caitlin doing the waving. So when we finally see lights approaching, I send her out there, dangerously close to the road, waving frantically. They ignore her and drive by! I am dumbfounded. How could they do that? Aren't the Swiss supposed to be some of the nicest people in the world? But then I remember, they don't get involved...not in wars, not in anything, evidently not even in helping stranded travelers. Now what? When another car finally comes along, I urge Caitlin to amp up the franticness a bit. This car initially drives by too, but must feel guilty because they stop and back up. They point us in the general vicinity and finally, finally we spot the eight inch L'Abri sign.

We really don't know what to expect. We do know that it's not a resort and we kind of giggle about the very real possibility of being jerked up out of bed at the crack of dawn to begin our chores. I'm sure they won't be mollified with any sob stories about my many hours of white knuckle driving. We creep up to the dark, quiet chalet and softly knock on the door. After a while a sweet girl comes to the door and whispers they were expecting us earlier and that everyone has gone to bed. We whisper our apologies, briefly explaining our difficulties finding the place. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she quietly tells us that we'll get a tour in the morning, but for now we just need to go to bed. She leads us to our small room with bunk beds and whispers that breakfast will begin promptly at 8:00. Caitlin and I both relish getting under the covers, we are cold and exhausted and after a few whispered words of mutual gratitude that we actually don't have to get up at the crack of dawn, we drift off to sleep.

And so begins our stay at L'Abri...