69° 42' N, 19° 00' E

I greet you from a few hundred miles north of my usual spot, in the city of Tromsø, Norway. Elisa and I boarded a plane early Thursday morning and, just two hours later, we touched down in the Paris of the North, or, as I prefer to call it, Heaven on Earth. Stepping off the airplane, we both paused to gaze up at the mountains jutting upward on all sides. To our left, the sea divided us from another island, where we discovered we would be staying.

Lidvar, a friend from Southern, met us at the airport, and showed us the ropes on the bus system as we rode across the bridge to Kvaløya, or The Whale Island, where he lived. We deposited our luggage in a snug little room in his apartment, and ventured back out into the snowy wonderland, where drifts rose above our heads, and one of the ways to the road passed under a snow-arch.

Back on the bus, we traveled across the bridge back to Tromsø, another island, tootled around the south end, and crossed an identical bridge to the mainland, passing the Arctic Cathedral, Polaria and Old Tromsø, among other things, and continual being distracted by the snowy peaks jutting their way into the sky.

Returning by bus to the city center, we disembarked, leaving Lidvar to attend a class and taking some time to explore the city for ourselves. As we had watched buildings slip past our window, both Elisa and I had seen a sign that drew us. So, once we were on our own, our first goal was to find the International Food Store. Luck was on our side, and before too long we were surrounded by brightly colored labels proclaiming the contents of various shapes and sizes of containers in many different languages.

As I perused the shelf, a small carton caught my attention. Thai Green Curry Paste, the label stated. As I read it, a memory popped into my head of another time when I had read the words “Thai Green Curry.” That time, it had called out to me from a menu, and, since the first forkful touched my tongue, I was hooked. Needless to say, I didn't leave the store empty-handed.

After stepping inside a couple souvenir shops, a book shop, a shoe store, a consignment shop and an army surplus store, we declared it time to purchase food for the duration of our stay and head back to our headquarters for supper. Two more international food stores drew us into their walls before we found a grocery store, and, bags full, we finally hopped on the bus that would take us home.

The next day, after bidding farewell to Lidvar, who was embarking on his own adventure, we stepped outside again to explore this arctic paradise. Polaria, the arctic marine museum, was our goal, and upon reaching it, we were loath to leave. A film about Svalbard (Spitsbergen in English) gave me even more of a longing to visit the northern island. When it ended, we had over an hour to spend in the small museum before it was time to train and feed the bearded seals. After examining the various sea creatures and the information given about them to our satisfaction, we went into the entrance area to take pictures.

Half an hour and many cheesy pictures later, we ventured back into the aquarium area to watch the seals. As that ended, it was almost time for a short film about Antartica, which we enjoyed before venturing back out into the arctic city.

Arriving at the apartment, we agreed that Friday night was the perfect time to enjoy a taste of Thailand, Cheryl-style. It was quite excellent, but I would still recommend that you let me practice a few more times before I make Thai green curry for you. We ate slowly, savoring the food and the anticipation. We were both looking forward to the time when the night would grow dark and we could watch for the Aurora Borealis.

At about 9:15, Elisa pulled on her boots to step outside and check the sky. I joined her a minute later (she has pull-on boots, mine lace up), and we both pulled out our cameras and lay down to watch as a light green sash danced across the center of the sky.

I could spend hours simply trying to describe the northern lights. It was Friday night, like I said, and I felt as if we were glimpsing a piece of God. Maybe his smile, or maybe just His finger, tracing the beauty of His love across the sky for us to simply look up and read. A few splashes of red flitted in and out of the dance during its peak, and, then, I am sure He was winking at me. Giving me a special sign of His love and a reminder of His promises.

After an hour, the sky faded to a clear midnight blue, with a few stars twinkling on, happy to have regained their prominence in the sky, and the quarter moon still suspended above the barren trees. We returned to the warmth of the indoors, our vocabulary consisting of little more than a repetitive and whispered “Wow!”

Sleep came and went, as is usually the case, and the next morning again found us venturing into Tromsø, this time with the purpose of attending church. Thankfully, Lidvar had led us to the church when we arrived, and we were able to maneuver through the streets and up the proper hill with confidence. A confidence that paled as we reached the doors.

A baby lay outside sleeping in a stroller, content and safe, but with no one around standing guard to ensure that she remained that way. Entering the foyer, we were greeted only by the sight of teenaged girls huddling in a group and a few older people standing and sitting in pairs and threesomes. No friendly voice wished us welcome, no warm hand reached out to take ours. We simply stood, right next to the doorway and stared around, smiling uncertainly as we wondered if it was really a church or if we had mistakenly walked in on someone's birthday party. A quick glance at the bulletin board assured me that this was indeed the right place, and we walked forward, feigning self-assurance and smiling at each person who dared to meet our eyes.

We made our way to two chairs and ensconced ourselves in them, peering around at the activities of the members. We were both relieved to finally see a few people who were dressed in what we are more accustomed to see as church clothes. Our skirts had seemed very out of place during the first few minutes.

We enjoyed studying the people as they slowly filled the church to nearly max capacity. And, as the church began, we discovered that the 7^th and 8^th graders had prepared an interesting and somewhat lively program.

We joined in the singing, and I did my best to translate the message for Elisa. Both of us missed a little bit of the skit they preformed, but the whole message was focused on the importance of studying and knowing what you believe for yourself. As it drew to a close, we dawdled a little bit before rising from our seats to exit, hoping that if we stayed a bit longer, someone would approach us.

Not one person reached out in any way but to respond to a hi from me. That was a disappointment, especially after the warm and truly hospitable reception we had received the week before on our visit to the Stavanger church. As we trudged back down the hill to find our bus, we both vowed to always look for visitors so that we could make them feel especially welcome in our church, wherever it might be in the future.

The afternoon found us hiking out into the world to enjoy the sunshine and drink in the surrounding nature. The highlight for both of us was when we had paused on the bridge and happened to be watching the water at just the right time to see two creatures playing tag. From our height we were in disagreement as to whether they fell under the category of sea otter or harbor seal, but both of us were content to enjoy their playing until it led them completely out of view under our bridge.

The return to our lodgings was made against the backdrop of the golden sun plummeting beneath the horizon, and various shades of violet caressing the sky.

A lifetime of stepping out into scenery like this would never be enough to take it all in. As it is, I am only here for one more day, so I'm trying desperately to gulp down as much as I can. A long term stay would allow me to sip just a little at a time, but never would I reach the bottom of the cup. Each new day highlights a new sight to wonder at, and each day some little nuance has varied, subtly and slowly repainting the picture until it is an entirely different piece of art.

As I wish to drink it in continuously, though, I am reminded that the Artist is always the same, and He has painted the landscape wherever I go. The more untouched landscapes are simply those that are closer to the original. But the real painting will never be shown in any gallery here on earth. And, when I remember that the beauty here will seem dull and pallid compared to that, I can only gasp in wonder as I try to imagine the delights that await me in my heavenly home!