Chapter 7: Spaetzle, Snowstorms, and the Phone Call
Between the Ache and the Belly Laughs
Gracie wasn’t one to sit in sadness too long.
She felt things, yes—but she also funneled those feelings. Into laughter. Into busyness. Into music and late-night whispered prayers that didn’t always have words. Laughter, for her, wasn’t denial—it was survival. And while that meant some hurts got pushed to the side for later, it was the only way she knew to breathe when life squeezed tight.
Dorm life was familiar this year—same room, same bed, same roommate, Katie.
Same noodles.
Every single Sunday, after chapel, without fail: schnitzel and spaetzle noodles, courtesy of a German company that apparently thought teenage missionary kids needed carbs to function for eternity.
“My word,” Gracie muttered one Sunday, poking at the buttery pile, “I think we’re contractually obligated to eat this for the rest of our lives.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”
“Only if I can get it in therapy form.”
Gracie’s dorm floor had welcomed a new dorm assistant that year—Renee. Sweet, steady, with a voice that could pray the roof off and a hug that made you feel like you actually belonged somewhere.
Renee quickly became more than a staff member. She became family. Another God-send.
Lisa, Lifeguards, and the Friday Night Dip
Lisa had become Gracie’s new anchor of joy. Equal parts sass and sunshine, she had a laugh that could clear a room and eyes that always saw the joke before you did.
And when it came to indoor waterpark Fridays? They were in.
Every. Single. Time.
“Gracie, you’re obsessed,” Lisa said, yanking her swim bag out of the closet. “What is your deal with water?”
Gracie grinned, flipping her towel over her shoulder. “I’m part fish. It’s in my blood.”
“You’re as white as Wonder Bread.”
“Exactly. That’s what makes it ironic.”
The waterpark was glorious. Steam rose off the indoor pool like a fog machine at a youth group lock-in, and the best part? Swimming through the tunnel that led outside. You’d go under the wall and suddenly—bam—snow in the air, heat on your skin, water cradling you like a bathtub made by angels.
It was ridiculously fun. And oddly healing.
Just like that whole season.
The Great Stuttgart Mission (And the Snickers That Saved Christmas)
The dorm's annual trip to Stuttgart hit just a few weeks before Christmas break. Streets lined with twinkle lights, cobblestones echoing with foot traffic, vendors shouting in German and wrapping mugs of cocoa in paper napkins.
It was like a Hallmark movie—if Hallmark had bratwurst and weird Santa figurines made out of wood.
Gracie had a mission: find a Snickers bar.
“I’m serious,” she told Lisa, clutching her coat shut as they scouted the candy aisle of a side market. “Spain doesn’t sell them and they are my mom’s favorite candy bar. This is something I have to find!”
She found one—just one—and after paying for it (of course), she stashed it in her coat like it was solid gold.
“If this melts,” she said dramatically, “I’m mailing myself back to Germany just to do this again.”
Lisa deadpanned. “You already live in Germany.”
“Details.”
Choir, Mr. Rogers, and the Mystery of the Frozen Front Hair
Gracie wasn’t failing—somehow.
She survived another semester at the hardest school she’d ever stepped foot in. She nailed her piano parts for the winter concert, held her alto section together through cold season and cracked voices, and even pulled off a trio performance without fainting.
Mr. Rogers, the beloved band director with the legendary hair that never changed (the front looked exactly the same all year), gave her a wink as she took her bow.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered backstage, his mismatched socks peeking out from under his slacks. “You’ve got music in your bones.”
“I’ve got spaetzle in mine,” she muttered with a grin.
A Train, a Cabin Full of MKs, and the Smell That Stayed
The train ride home that December wasn’t quiet—and it definitely wasn’t short.
It was a 31-hour journey from Switzerland to the border of Spain. And for Gracie, that meant one thing: the Spain crew was back in full force.
Eight missionary kids crammed into two cabins with worn velvet seats, snack crumbs in every corner, and the heat set to "sauna." It was tradition. Same crew. Same scramble for top luggage space. Same whispered prayers for no weird strangers.
The school had bought out all the seats in each cabin so they wouldn’t have to travel with outsiders. But since the cabins didn’t come with locks, every time the train pulled into a station—which was all night long—they had to take turns holding the door shut with their legs.
No joke.
Gracie took her turn, wedging herself against the door, knees locked, boots planted on the opposite bench.
“Don’t fall asleep,” one of the girls warned, half-laughing as she wrapped herself in a blanket. “You’re the only thing between us and a drunken intruder.”
“Comforting,” Gracie said, adjusting her stance. “I’m basically the bouncer for a train full of missionary kids.”
But the next stop came faster than expected—and the next “guest” was stronger than Gracie anticipated.
Before she could brace, a man shoved the door hard, knocking her off balance. He stumbled inside, half-slurred a mumble, spotted an empty seat, and dropped into it like he owned the place.
Gracie’s stomach sank.
He reeked of alcohol and sweat and something unidentifiable. But he didn’t talk. Didn’t even open his eyes.
Maybe this won’t be so bad, she thought.
And then… he shifted.
And vomited.
Right there.
All over the floor.
It splashed under the seats—soaking everything beneath them. Their backpacks. Their duffle bags. Gracie’s pink travel bag—covered.
She froze. The cabin went silent. No one breathed.
Then someone muttered, “Well. There goes Christmas.”
The man got off a few stops later, but the damage was done. And the smell? It clung to them like a souvenir.
By the time they pulled into Valencia the next evening, Gracie stepped off the train trying not to gag and handed her pink duffle to her parents with a straight face.
“Hey Mom! Merry Christmas!” she said with forced cheer. “Also… um… I wouldn’t touch that too closely.”
Her mom blinked. “Gracie Rae. What in the world happened?”
Gracie just grinned. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say… I’ve never been more thankful for clean laundry.”
What Gracie didn’t know—couldn’t have known—was that just 10 days later, the laughter would be replaced with something far heavier.
The phone would ring.
A voice from the States would be on the other end.
And the words that followed…
Would shake everything.
What???? Not another cliffhanger!!! You are cruel!! That's a crime against humanity!! 🤣🤣