Cultural Perspectives

Greek-Rooted & Cultivated in Diaspora

~ Georgia Coats ~ Leave a comment

NOTE: In 2026 it feels risky to celebrate immigrant stories. But I have learned from my immigrant roots and my immigrant neighbors that deeply rooted resilience grows from our journeys, and celebrating that is necessary in hard times.

“Give me a word, any word, and I’ll show you how the root of that word is Greek.”

As the daughter of Greek immigrants, I laughed until I cried at the veracity of this challenge repeated multiple times in the original 2002 movie, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, which takes a comedic look at a passionate, chaotic, and endearing Greek immigrant family in America.  Even now, I hear my dad’s voice in those words.  When I told him I work with my immigrant and refugee neighbors on the Global Diaspora team, he asked, “Do you know what the word dia-spora means? It comes from the Greek—” 

Dia—meaning across; spora—meaning scatter—it’s where we get spores. It’s connected to scattering seeds across the earth—an agricultural concept.

Being Greek

What does it mean to be Greek when you are cultivated in diaspora? DNA tests say I’m 90% Greek.  My distinguishing tastebuds were nurtured by the culinary prowess of my people and my dad’s expert training. But on a spectrum of Greekness, my language skills are bleak.  My connection to the local Greek community is questionable.  Culturally, I don’t wave the Greek flag or own a traditional Greek outfit to wear on Heritage Day at the office.  Sometimes Greek Orthodox chant is a chilling reminder that I don’t belong—that I’m not Greek enough to be a part of that group.

The Greek Orthodox Church was the place where local Greek immigrants could cultivate language, culture, faith, and community.  Immigrants could proudly teach their kids the tenants of faith while also sending them to Greek dance for cultural experiences and Greek school for language learning.  

In the chaos of Greek immigrant family life, somehow, I missed those dance classes.  For a myriad of reasons, I failed miserably at language learning.  I worried more about what to wear to church than what the ancient Orthodox services were actually about.  Without these core elements, belonging to the community withered. Proud of their cultural heritage and wanting the best for their children, I felt the longing my parents had for me to learn Greek.  That unfulfilled longing translated into language shame.  And shame is not a motivating force for belonging.

Transforming Language Shame

I buried my language shame and it lay dormant in me as a regular reminder of what I was lacking. Until, my mom encouraged me to study Spanish in college. I discovered that I excelled at it.  I loved learning grammar so much that I went on to study linguistics.  Through the study of other languages and cultures, God began to cultivate in me His love for all people.  

I take seriously Jesus’ value for all the nations… (Mt. 28:19)

In the Greek, all the nations—όλα τα έθνη—translates into every ethnic group.  God cares about people flourishing within every ethnolinguistic group scattered around the globe.

Embracing Philoxenia

Philoxenia—a Greek word that means a friend to the stranger.  It embodies the ancient Greek tradition of welcoming guests with warmth, kindness and generosity.

I didn’t have to go far to discover a myriad of ethnic groups living in diaspora. After earning my bachelor’s degree in Spanish for Bilingual Education and then teaching English as a Second Language, my husband and I bought our first home in an Arabic-speaking community in Michigan.  We embarked on learning spoken Lebanese Arabic in our neighborhood.  Our three kids grew up with Arabic-speaking neighbors from Yemen, Lebanon, Iraq, Syria, and Palestine.  My Arabic language skills got me through delightful tea times with neighbors—definitely more graciously than my Greek.  My growing passion for sweet Middle Eastern mint tea set my culinary standards even higher.

Over the years, I’ve taught English to Arabic speakers, Spanish to English speakers, linguistics to all ages, and I’ve learned to compassionately coach others through language learning processes on the far side of the sea. My love for languages and engaging the people who speak them are intertwined at the roots. These combined passions germinated into a master’s degree in Language Learning & Linguistics. The language shame I had buried deep down began to sprout up with expanded and invigorated dignity. 

After 17 years in Michigan, we uprooted from our beloved Arabic-speaking diaspora community.  Now, my family lives in a community where I interact with neighbors who speak up to 35 different languages at our local Immigrant and Refugee Center in Colorado.  I connect with other Orthodox Christians through shared holidays and the splendor of Orthodox worship chanted in Tigrinya, Arabic, Amharic, Macedonian and Greek. 

A Beautiful Belonging in the Body of Christ

Recently, I sat down with a young Kinyarwanda-speaking teen in my community to talk about her immigrant church experience and the struggles she faces living in two cultures. I explained that, often times, an immigrant church tries so hard to do it all—to be a center for:

language,

cultural identity,

faith, and community.

But sometimes, kids who are cultivated in diaspora don’t learn their heritage language like those who immigrated, but they can still grow in faith and community connections.  As I tenderly explained these things to my young friend, I found myself welling up with tears.  Was I talking about her little brother who struggles with understanding the Bible in Kinyarwanda? Or was I feeling the deep-seeded shame of my own lack of heritage language skills? Though we come from different language groups, faith expressions, and continents, we share a beautiful belonging in the Body of Christ.

The Spectrum of Greek-ness  

Where am I on the spectrum of Greekness?  I eagerly embrace the invitations of spontaneous Greek dancing in the living room—in sweats, among cousins.  I am teaching my kids the deeply rooted values of:

good food,

good company,

and good conversations,

as my parents taught me.  I embrace my fierce passion for life and feel held back if I can’t talk with my hands.  I love language. I love learning.  I am passionate about human flourishing and pray fervently that all ethnolinguistic groups would have access to Good News in the languages they value most.

The buried seed of language shame from my youth has grown into a complex root system cultivated in diaspora. I find I belong best in diverse communities where everyone has a different food to share and language to express.  We welcome each other with our unique expressions of philoxenia. Those sweet spaces bring me joy. I not only crave sweet Middle Eastern tea, but I also regularly hunger for Eritrean hembasha bread and Rohingya-style spicy stir-fried noodles.  I can’t duplicate these dishes, I just wait for invitations to share them with neighbors—appreciating good food and good conversations around language, culture, and life shared in community.  It’s part of who I am.

My name is Georgia.  In Greek: Γεωργία—from the root—geo—meaning earth.  Georgia is one who cultivates the earth—a Sower of Seeds. 

I am Greek-rooted and flourishing in diaspora.  

Georgia and her husband have been serving with SIL Global for 27 years. They work with global Scripture Engagement strategies so that local language communities can flourish. Georgia currently serves as a Language & Culture Empowerment Specialist with Global Diaspora Services, and in her neighborhood. 

My Signature Blend

~ Georgia Coats ~ 1 Comment

I weave stories in my field as a Language & Culture Empowerment Specialist—a learner, a teacher, and a seeker of hidden treasures in Diaspora spaces… 

How to consume my words: They pair well with a comfort beverage and a reflective space. They are crafted with wholesome, layered complexity, freshly selected thoughtfulness, signature & rhythmic repetitions, punctuated with a unique blend of precious perspective found in diverse and often marginalized corners of the globe and of human hearts.  Each ingredient is prayed through, wrestled with, & marinated in the life-giving words of Jesus. Not to say I always get it right.  I have definitely ruined a few recipes along the way—over seasoned, over cooked, too dry, too sappy.  

I am Greek-rooted, polysemic, and curiously linguistic… 

My Greek-rootedness has taught me to love nuance and embrace implicitly. I live among multilingual language learners, educators and linguists, but find joy in playing with and playing on words. I respect lists and laws but express myself in parables and poetry. In my mind I’m painting pictures worth about 1000+ words.  Polysemy is a fabulous Greek word that invites multiple possible meanings. It’s a blend of intentional wordplay to create open and personalized interpretations—to come away from my reflections with your own challenges, questions, thoughts and aspirations—to taste for yourself what is simmering.

I aspire to ethically sourced storytelling, marbled with brave, vulnerable introspection…

My relational connections are a profoundly significant part of my life. As a beloved friend, daughter, mother, teacher, mentor, wife, neighbor…I seek to honor the bold and distinct flavors others bring into my life. I prayerfully invite the people who have inspired my stories to get a taste of them first—and receive their feedback. In an effort to honor the impact of others and not to tell their stories without invitation, I write introspectively and share vulnerably.  

I am scattered…

I am privileged to have my hands in many pots filled with deliciously diverse delicacies. I embrace scattered as a defining characteristic of living in diaspora—from the Greek—those who are scattered from their homeland.  I find clarity and satisfaction when I simmer my curiosities, empathies, studies, & unique cultural experiences, and serve them in written form. My writing gathers the scattered parts into sense and meaning.

I am faith-based…

My faith has led to flourishing and compelled me on magnificent and tragic adventures I have lovingly and courageously followed my good, good Father into.  To express the deep things of the soul at a base level always contains elements of faith stirred in. I live and love in diverse contexts, and I love because God first loved me.

I am not thick-skinned… 

I am wired to be receptive and perceptive to linguistic patterns, human hearts, and cultural expressions. Attention to detail requires heightened sensitivities—noticing people and rhythms and hidden treasures that could easily get overlooked.

I flourish when I walk in my strengths of empathy and connectedness…

Like stillness and a steeping cup of tea—daily walks are a prayerful ritual for me to make sacred connections. Much of what I take in around me percolates and eventually spills out of these regular rhythms as I continue to figure out my blend of storytelling that truthfully reflects the joys and sorrows my heart has carried.  

Not all who wander are lost—but I probably am…

I’m gifted more with metaphors than with maps. I don’t stay in my lane, because I’m buzzing from flower to glorious flower. I’m often lost in thought or following rabbits down little trails while chewing on connected ideas. I go out of my way to collect rocks from the places I’ve traversed in solidarity with the people I’ve shared meals and stories with there. As I wander, I’m simultaneously pondering the moral of the children’s story of Stone Soup and wondering how my global rock collection connects to what it means to inherit the earth as Jesus said—maybe it’s one treasured stone at a time.  

I continually feed live, active cultures of chronic hope…

I live in the brokenness of my body and the brokenness of this world while clinging to the promise that the fullness of life is available for all people. In this tension, resilience is activated, yielding a leaven of hope, ultimately rising to freshly baked bread—intended to be broken and shared in community.

I embrace health-nuttiness and a small spoon….

I don’t need to take up more space than I do. My sweet spot involves nutrient-dense, small portions of something deliciously inviting and often spontaneous—which is why I treasure the small spoon I carry with me. Chronically living with leukemia has freed me up to embrace both my health-nut tendencies and a lean budget, while seeking out culinary adventures among neighbors, and in community. It’s often over meals that neighbors become friends and community becomes family—when we share a part of ourselves. 

I serve generous portions… 

Through unsuccessfully aspiring to succinctness, I am learning not to let word counts be my definitive limitation. I am the only one with my unique perspective. So, I invite you to savor my signature blend of detail like a delicately and expertly prepared dish made for you to taste and share. I pray that it may satisfy the souls of those who choose to break bread with me. You are welcome.

Weld County Welcoming Committee

~ Georgia Coats ~ 2 Comments

I’m grateful for the invitation to do an interview with Greeley Living Magazine for the March 2023 issue. I love being a part of my diverse community!

Empower – Connect – Advocate

Located on 8th Avenue, the Immigrant and Refugee Center of Northern Colorado (IRCNOCO) has been serving the community since 2017, when the Immigrant and Refugee Center of Northern Colorado began as a combined operation between Right to Read of Weld County and the Global Refugee Center. Rather than providing English language training to some clients and Community Navigation services to others, becoming one, larger organization meant that they could be reaching more of our clients’ needs by making their services into one efficient, effective process in one location.

Explains IRCNOCO Community Navigator, Georgia Coats, “The driving force behind our mission is successful integration where immigrants and refugees have a place to resettle and call home—a place to thrive and a place where healthy integration means that they feel like they belong and have good things to give and receive in community.”

Some of the services they provide include individualized case management and employment support for refugee clients, translation of relevant documents and information into various languages for their clients and families, assisting community members through the process of becoming United States Citizens through Citizenship classes and interview preparation sessions, and providing resources such as tablets and hotspots to help facilitate digital literacy. They also have a variety of educational courses for their clients, including a “Little Learners” program for preschoolers, and a Women’s’ Empowerment group. 

A daughter of Greek immigrants herself, this organization is near and dear to Georgia Coats’ heart. “I have always lived in diverse communities where multiple languages and cultures have enriched my life. I was born into a Greek Immigrant community in Denver and have lived among various diverse groups of immigrants and refugees ever since. I have a BA in Spanish and Bilingual Education from UNC, and an MA in Language Learning & Linguistics from Wayne State University in Detroit. My husband and I lived in Dearborn, Michigan, where we worked in an Arabic-speaking Muslim community for 17 years.”

In 2018, the Coats family, now grown to five members, returned to Colorado and settled in Greeley. “Though we still grieve the loss of easy access to falafel, waffles are an important staple for Saturday morning breakfast. I’ve been a language learner my whole life—starting with Greek, then Spanish, then dabbling in Arabic. I’ve learned some things more successfully than others—but my lack of success in some language learning contexts has made me a more compassionate language instructor and language learning coach. In addition to my parttime work at IRCNOCO, my husband and I also work with another nonprofit that focuses on ethnolinguistic communities worldwide.”

Women’s Empowerment

Georgia joined the IRCNOCO mission in 2020 as a Community Navigator, a big change from teaching English. “Teaching was a place where I could work out of my strengths. Being a Community Navigator, however, takes all my language and culture skills but also challenges me to take a more vulnerable posture of humility.”

In 2020, she also began to gather women together at the center for the Women’s Empowerment Group. “We have grown into a small group of tenacious women from six different countries who seek to lift each other up towards our goals and dreams and be supportive of each other’s journeys. We believe that girls with dreams become women of vision.”   

They’ve seen that same support in the larger Greeley community as well. “An outpouring of serving with my local church and working part time at the IRCNOCO has led me into a beautiful community cross-section called Zoe’s Study Buddies,” says Georgia. Study Buddies started as a group of high school kids from refugee backgrounds asking for one-to-one academic tutoring. Many of these teens come from the families that they serve at the IRCNOCO.

“My colleague, Kathy, and my neighbor Emma, and I began to respond to this need for tutoring in various ways.  We now have 8-12 highly motivated teens from at least 6 different language groups who receive academic support and a warm beverage on Tuesday nights at Zoe’s Café in downtown Greeley!  We’ve become more than a tutoring group, though, we’re more like a big, bustling family of teens, tutors, drivers, and a growing sense of belonging.”

Mohamed and the Thanksgiving Turkeys

And this community support goes both ways. “Our clients at IRCNOCO are often very grateful for the services we provide and find ways to be generous with us when they have the opportunity,” she says. Recently, they saw this when a client named Mohammed came in the week before Thanksgiving wanting to gift IRCNOCO Office Manager, Tony, with three large frozen turkeys. Mohammed, who doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving, works at a meat processing facility and his workplace gave him the turkeys as a holiday bonus. He was eager to share his bonus with his friends and immediately thought of some of his American friends who might appreciate such a gift.  

When he showed up at the IRCNOCO with his abundant supply of frozen poultry, they had to act fast to keep his gift from going to waste. “Tony asked if there was a way I could take them home to keep them frozen so they wouldn’t spoil. I quickly called my husband, who came by the center to temporarily store the birds in our freezer.”

The next challenge was what to do with the turkeys, as most people had already gotten theirs! Thankfully, they were able to find families to give them to using their networks at church. “I felt like I was in just the right place at just the right time—to receive the turkeys from Mohammed via Tony, send them to the deep freezer with my husband, and then have the privilege of giving two of them to these other community members. Giving and receiving is a crucial part of healthy community and belonging,” Georgia concluded.

When asked about what she loves most about IRCNOCO, Georgia said, “I love the idea that people moved westward and into this High Plains area of Colorado in search of something better for their lives.  It takes a courageous spirit to leave the familiar and explore new frontiers; and I see that kind of passion for discovery and innovation woven into the culture of our community. Similarly, the newcomers looking to resettle here from places like Burma, Somalia, and other parts of Africa, Asia, and South America are seeking the promise of a better life and a safe place for their families to belong and thrive.” 

In parting, Georgia had this call to action for readers. “As a community, we have the unique opportunity to continue to nurture that spirit of new frontiers for these diverse populations. As they are able to successfully integrate here, they deepen and enrich our culture that is unique to Greeley and this High Plains area. I hope to see more and more of us on the ‘welcoming committee’ for those who want to call Weld County their home.”

WE: Women’s Empowerment at the Immigrant and Refugee Center

~ Georgia Coats ~ 2 Comments

Women’s Empowerment is about Showing Up.

In September, our key word was hustle. The women in our group are hustling to own their own homes, get degrees, run their households, care for littles learn to drive–all while regularly showing up for English classes at IRCNOCO and learning learning to thrive in their new community.

Women’s Empowerment is about Lifting Each Other Up.

In October WE shared goals that we’ve already accomplished, which opened space for others to ask questions and celebrate each other’s successes.  WE also shared new aspirations, lifting each other up with empathy and bravery.

Women’s Empowerment is about Rising Up Together: Past our barriers, towards our dreams

In November, five women from our group filled out applications to work as interpreters, teaching assistants, and preschool teachers in our local schools at our school district’s Hiring Event.  Such a win—together!

The Immigrant and Refugee Center of Northern Colorado is an organization that empowers immimmigrants and refugees, connects communities, and advocates for successful integration. One part of our programming that helps do this is Women’s Empowerment. I have the privilege of joining these women as our Women’s Empowerment Coordinator.

The Fourth Rock

~ Georgia Coats ~ 2 Comments

You reign above it all You reign above it all.

Over the universe and over every heart

There is no higher name… 

(Reign Above It All, Hannah & Paul McClure)
 
A senior trip. A gathering of global perspectives. An opportunity to lift up other girls in their education…

For 20 days in July, my daughter, Zoe, and I had the incredible privilege of traveling to three countries, each with unique language, culture, and learning dynamics. As a Language and Culture Learning Coach, navigating new cultures is my sweet spot. On the other hand, navigating the physical world is a challenge for me, and getting lost is something I’ve learned to factor into life.  This dynamic provided ample opportunity for Zoe and me to problem solve together in new places. 

The overall goal of our trip was for Zoe and me to be empowered together through the joys and trials of traveling adventures—before Zoe sets out on her independent college journey.  For a girl who lingered in Narnia most of her childhood, and then graduated into Harry Potter’s world, Zoe would have enrolled at Hogwart’s post high school if she could. Instead, she settled on sauntering through Parisian chateaus for her summer between high school and college. Germany was a place to meet incredible world travelers and rub shoulders with their love for language and culture and adventure. Bangladesh was a window into a world so far outside our own–a place where we could encourage the empowerment of others.
We strategically embarked on our expedition equipped with only a backpack and a carry-on—to avoid losing luggage amidst multiple strikes in various European airports.  A few other essentials for our journey included a 2022 multilingual playlist and 3 painted rocks…

July 4, 2022:

In the security line at the Denver airport: It turns out, if you travel with multiple painted rocks in your carry-on, your bag WILL get searched.  Before we left, we committed to a mini-mission of helping my cousin spread her Colorado rocks around the world—I channeled my inner Amelie as we ventured out to deposit a hand-painted rock in each of our three destinations.

July 5:

We landed in Paris and successfully navigated our way to our hotel.  We enjoyed dinner and an evening walk… by the river, past the cathedral, through the medieval gardens.

July 7:

Lessons from today’s excursions in Paris:

  • Trains take longer than you think they will 
  • Half a ballet is better than no ballet at all 
  • Raspberry sorbet is the perfect Parisian comfort food 

Rock #1: We strategically deposited the first Colorado rock in a French castle windowsill. I hope they let it stay there.

July 8:

We learned some essential French vocabulary…

Navigating trains: 

  • Sortie = exit
  • Gare = station

Navigating treats: 

  • café crème = latte 
  • confiture de framboise = raspberry jam 
  • fromage = cheese 

Zoe and I felt so empowered as we navigated the train system together and took in all the fancy palaces, castles, and chateaus Zoe had planned for us to see. 

I’m a princеss of 2022…
Dancing all night, wеaring vintage dresses 

(Princess, Tiphene)

July 9:

Ever since Zoe was 5 years old, she wanted to be in charge of planning parties. My husband, Steve, and I would give her a budget, help her make shopping lists, and work out the details of her vision together. At 18, her goal was a senior trip to Paris—to get castles out of her system before heading off to college. She’s been working, saving, budgeting, and planning for months. 

My joy has been to accompany her in realizing her vision… 

  • to learn to navigate new places
  • to problem-solve the unexpected
  • to figure things out even when we don’t understand the language, or the way things work
  • to adapt and enjoy the simple wonders of another culture
  • And to make amazing memories along the way

NEXT STOP: Germany—via train

July 10:

We put our train navigation skills to the ultimate test when we took 6 different trains from Paris to a small German town and met up with Steve and our SIL International colleagues.  When my sweet husband met us at the final station, he quickly snatched up our carry-ons and led us to our cozy accommodations.  Zoe and I gladly relinquished some of our powerful independence, and received Steve’s loving care for us on this middle stint of our journey.  

After settling in, Steve and I enjoyed dinner and an evening walk together… by the river, past the village, through the forest.  

July 12:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want;

He makes me lie down in green pastures

The Lord is my shepherd, leads me to still waters. And He restores my soul 

(Come What May, We Are Messengers)

July 13:

Rock #2: Spreading the Liebe… We delicately deposited our second Colorado rock in a German flower garden at the conference center where we gathered.

July 14:

Steve and I work with incredible, multilingual people of deep faith who live and travel all over the world. It always lifts our hearts to be together. And I’m super grateful Zoe connected with some amazing third culture teens who widen global possibilities and perspectives for her.

NEXT STOP: Zoe and I to Bangladesh.

Steve back home to Colorado.
Really hoping for no unexpected overnights in Frankfurt or Istanbul or anywhere else.

Like a sunrise on the longest night,

Like a rescue coming just in time.

Yeah, you save me when I cannot see the light.

Yeah, you save me when I cannot see the light.

(Lease on Life, Andy Grammer)

July 15:

Some first moments in Bangladesh…

  • Intro to language and culture with Troy Uncle
  • Riding in an easy bike
  • A Hindu festival parade, viewed from our hotel
  • Islamic call to prayer accompanied by car horns
  • A welcome of marigold leis, star fruit, and colorful scarves from the girls in the Speak Up – Girls Education Program. I can’t believe we get to be here with all these sweet, smiling faces and curious giggles.

I’m so thankful for safe travels via trains, planes, buses, and easy bikes to get here.

July 16:

Bangladesh is a predominantly Islamic country. The sign in our hotel room points to the direction of Mecca so people know which way to face when they pray. In my mind, facing East and facing Mecca have always been synonymous. It has been a bit disorienting to think of Mecca as west of us here. I’ve never spent this much time east of Mecca.

July 17:

With a background in Romance Languages, decoding French signs was kind of fun.  German signs were a little more of a challenge.  However, once we arrived in Bangladesh, our decoding skills were of little use.  The cultural differences were also striking in so many ways.  We felt the opposite of the fierce independence we had honed in Paris.

It turns out that in Bangladesh when you want to walk the neighborhood, you hold hands with your hosts… across the busy streets, past the dragon fruit vendor, through the sweet shop, with new friends.

July 18:

This is the day… that the Lord has made,
We will rejoice and be glad in it… 

(A summer camp fave)

The girls in the villages and the dorm love singing and dancing. We’ve learned we need to have a song ready at a moment’s notice, and this one has been our go-to.

Today we were welcomed into the village and home of Dee, the girl Zoe sponsors with Speak Up for the Poor. Dee helped her mom serve us noodles and orange slices and coconut water fresh from the tree outside. As I looked around the lush green village and around the sparse room in their home, I thought: I am the farthest from home I’ve ever been.

July 19:

Rock #3 has traveled so far from its Colorado home. 

When we went to visit Dee’s village for a parent meeting, we formally presented our lovingly painted rock to the girls.  Then the Vice President of the student leadership team at their local schoolhouse formally received our little gift—a tangible piece of our home with them. They placed it at the head table in the school where it will likely serve as a very useful paperweight.

It was definitely a sweet spot to attend the parents’ meeting in Dee’s village. The girls are amazing, so it was fun to meet the moms who came to support their daughters’ educations—in place of child marriage. If the parents aren’t supportive, the girls will often end up getting married as a young teen. I was really proud of these moms, with limited education themselves, wanting something more for their girls. And, I felt so grateful to be there with my girl, supporting her education and wanting the best for her future.

July 20:

Today we met Lula—the girl my husband and I sponsor. We visited her village, her school, and her home. All the other girls followed from the schoolhouse. We met her parents and 4 sisters. We shared small gifts with them, and they shared fresh dates and coconut sweets with us. I love having a clearer perspective of her context, and seeing how sponsorship lifts up all the girls in the Education Program—in the villages, the dorms, the slums… I’m super grateful for this experience and all that it took for us to get here. 

July 21:

I love you, you love me,

We are one big family… 

(I love you, Barney)

Zoe and I have learned to teach English lessons with only a moment’s notice.  Today we joined the Student Teachers from the college dorm as they taught their classes in small schoolhouses in the slum areas—full of bright-eyed learners. With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you… I loved this impromptu English lesson with these cuties.

July 23:

Heading home… Our trip back to Colorado starts on an easy bike, then a bus, then 4 planes, and 30+ hours later, a final car ride to our house. We packed some extra suitcases full of letters from the Speak Up girls to take back to their sponsors in the U.S.  We also loaded up on henna cones—an essential for Zoe to take to college.  And we sadly said a gazillion goodbyes. 

July 29:

As I am back to walking my regular neighborhood, I love how music can take me right back to a place…. When I made my multilingual playlist to accompany our epic summer adventures, I included a popular Bangla song (by searching 2022 top Bangla songs). With all the dancing that went on while we were there, Komola was one of the first songs I heard in a dance performance, and then kept hearing. Now, when this song comes up on my playlist, it takes me right back to this little village school.  Sometimes I can’t believe we were even there. But the feelings and memories stirred up by this song and others are proof that it was all so real. 

August 15:

One, you get one heartbeat, so,
Take it seriously…
This is your masterpiece,
Don’t forget to dream and taste the colors
In the air you breathe

(Masterpiece, Andy Grammer)

Today we moved Zoe into her college dorm: She’s ready. She’s ready to ask hard questions, explore possible dreams, taste new colors. She’s ready for home away from home, for new friends, and new levels of adulting. I’m super excited to release her into this new aspect of her masterpiece.

The 4th Rock:

We left three Colorado Rocks in each of the countries we traversed.  The 4th rock is the rock we brought home—the one I lifted from the railroad tracks outside the slum areas of Khulna. I had searched in each village we visited in Bangladesh, but with the hard-packed dirt trails covered in jungle plant debris and mud puddles left over from recent rain showers, loose stones were hard to come by—and the girls thought it was strange that I kept digging around in the dirt with my fingers!  Rock #4 will become part of our Thanksgiving Rock collection—a tangible reminder of gratitude for our epic 2022 adventures.

All my life You have been faithful,

And all my life you have been so, so good.

With every breath that I am able,

I will sing of the goodness of God.

(Goodness of God, Jenn Johnson)

RISE UP: Women’s Empowerment Lesson 3

~ Georgia Coats ~ 6 Comments

I have been on a significant journey towards understanding Women’s Empowerment within me:

🌀 Lesson 1: the self discipline to GET UP—even when it’s hard

🌀 Lesson 2: the love to LIFT UP

🌀 Lesson 3: the power to RISE UP

This is my third lesson…

Over the years I have found great inner strength from incredible people who have lifted me upwards.  Afterall, lifting each other up is a privilege of loving and being loved.  But even with all the inner and outer strength of many hands, some things must rise up—beyond what we are capable of lifting.

Em-Power-Ment Requires a Power Source

And I’ll rise up, I’ll rise like the day

I’ll rise up, I’ll rise unafraid,

I’ll rise up, And I’ll do it a thousand times again…

Andra Day

This song has been a quarantine anthem.  It played during multiple montages of nurses and doctors relentlessly fighting for the lives of others when the pandemic began.  It was playing when I fell off my ripstick and decided to get back up again.  It played as I walked my neighborhood during cloudy times, wondering why I was hesitant to start up Women’s Empowerment again, after potentially putting women at risk of COVID-19.  

It played during Lent of 2021 as I thought of Jesus rising up and doing it again every Easter—thousands of times—as we celebrate such empowerment.  He claimed agency over laying down and raising up his own life—a divine power source.

RISE UP:

My third lesson in being empowered is learning to imagine things that are beyond us.  Daring to speak our dreams out loud.  This requires external power sources. 

I’ll rise like the day… Semantically speaking, a day can’t rise itself.  It’s not the agent of rising. It needs to be risen up.

As Easter 2022 gets closer, I’m pondering an empowered Jesus who conquered the impossible barrier of death. Though in myself I am limited, I don’t have to accept a timid spirit.  Rather, I’m growing in my embrace of a Spirit that has the power to rise up, the love to lift up, and the self-discipline to get up—a thousand times again for the things that matter.

The whisper to my spirit is clear…

Get back up and invite the women you know.  Don’t give up on this important journey of Women’s Empowerment.

Be lifted up.  Invite these sisters courageously into your vulnerable spaces of fear and falling and failure. Sip tea together and talk about the dreams we had as little girls, and the goals we persist in, and the visions we have of our futures.  

Rise up.  Dare to form bonds of friendship and speak impossible dreams out loud.

Women’s Empowerment has been resurrected.  I invited my friends of varying languages and religious backgrounds—women who have invited me into their vulnerable places where I’ve had the privilege of lifting them up towards their goals.  This was a vulnerable place for me.  I can’t succeed at Women’s Empowerment without women who show up.  I needed my sisters to come. And they did. And it has been so worth the risk of failing and trying again.

We must continually get ourselves up and lift each other up in order to imagine collectively rising up.  I shift often between reliable running shoes for persevering towards things that are important, to cozy slippers in merciful spaces, to badass boots for fighting injustice.  Because getting up, lifting up and rising up all require different things—and as empowered women, we learn, some more awkwardly than others, to wear them all.

LIFT UP: Women’s Empowerment Lesson 2

~ Georgia Coats ~ 5 Comments

I have been on a significant journey towards understanding Women’s Empowerment within me:

🌀 Lesson 1: the self discipline to GET UP—even when it’s hard

🌀 Lesson 2: the love to LIFT UP

🌀 Lesson 3: the power to RISE UP

This is my second lesson…

If humility is learning to live for the sake of others, then I needed to move on from my preoccupation with falling and failing—and the differences between them—and focus on the art of lifting.

Empowered Women Lift Each Other Up

I was still sore about potentially putting women at risk of COVID-19 instead of figuring out how to empower them.  So, I dove into another challenge with just the right amount of overwhelming and satisfying.  I was learning to be a Community Navigator at our local Immigrant and Refugee Center. 

I loved those words.  I really wanted to grasp the essence of community.  And I was already a horrible navigator of physical streets, but the thought of learning how to help resettling refugees navigate my beloved community felt like the perfect challenge.

Turns out Part Time Community Navigator is the perfect journey of learning to live for the sake of others.  Hours of filling out forms that will hopefully remove just one of a gazillion impossible barriers that newcomers face as they bravely transition to a new world, in a new language, with limited resources.  Turns out delving into the vulnerable circumstances of people’s lives, loved ones, and longings in order to fill out spaces on a form felt something like washing other people’s feet.

As a person who slips comfortably into a place of mercy, justice feels difficult to maneuver around in. This is precisely why I owned sparkly combat boots—to embrace a new aspect of myself.  In this new navigator role I was barely scratching the surface of understanding injustice and privilege as I listened repeatedly to the monotonous melodies of WAITING ON HOLD with one government office or another on behalf of a client and their specific need.  And every time a client got one step closer to their goal, I would lift my hands up in a celebratory cheer.  Turns out that mercy, grace, and kindness towards someone facing injustice can really split a heart wide open.  And when that happens, boundaries and zoning areas of comfort and capacity explode into beautiful chaos.  

Turns out that:

Mercy pairs with justice.

Gentleness is a form of harnessed power.

Grace pours out of abundance.

I was learning to lift others up.  I was learning to celebrate the big and small wins of many courageous people who welcomed me into their vulnerable spaces.

LIFT UP:  

My second lesson in being empowered is learning to help someone else reach their goals.  And… inviting others into reaching my own—the things we can’t do just on our own.  Carrying each other’s heavy loads, together.

I love grammar and words and the linguistic study of Semantics.  Some verbs require an agent:

Example: My friends and I carried the couch up the stairs.  

My friends and I are the agents in this sentence.  The couch was acted upon.  My friends and I used our strength and decision-making skills to complete a goal together.  That’s agency, and heavy lifting.  That involves me putting down my own important stuff for a moment so I can put all my strength into lifting something that requires many hands.

Strength is limited. We can’t do heavy lifting alone or for long.  We need to know that lifting is getting us somewhere—that there’s an end goal. 

So many dear people have lifted me upwards over the years.  And lifting others up is a privilege of loving and being loved.

Just Come

~ Georgia Coats ~ 5 Comments

🎶 Come, they told me, pa rum pum pum pum 🎶

I’m not sure what’s in it for me.  I keep asking myself what my expectations are.  I keep searching my own intentions.  There’s a time investment.  There’s a financial cost.  But there is ZERO obligation.  And yet I keep coming.  The vortex of need is overwhelming—beyond what I could possibly make a dent in.  I’m not naïve enough to think I’m taking on the role of superhero or white savior.  In fact, I feel pretty small and ill-equipped. 

And yet, every time I come, my heart is full.  Not because I solve big problems.  Sometimes when I show up, I can’t even solve the smallest of problems.  

🎶 O Come all Ye Faithful, Joyful and Triumphant 🎶

The interactions with this sweet neighbor and her family resettled in my community have changed something in me.  The gift is mine.

There are other faithful people who come.  If I didn’t show up and attempt to meet any of their needs, they would figure it out a different way.  They are survivors.  They survived and thrived and moved forward long before I knew this beautiful family.

🎶 Joy to the World, the Lord is Come 🎶

Last week I took the 14 year old daughter of my sweet neighbor to the doctor for a well-visit.  She rallied for her own appointment. I taught her how to fill out medical forms.  I showed her where her mom would need to sign so she could legally manage her own healthcare.  It’s not that her mom wouldn’t love to come, caring for her precious daughter.  It’s just that as a single mom of 10 kids, working fulltime at the meatpacking plant while studying English at night, there’s just not enough time in her days to navigate a well visit for child #5.  

$23.19.  That’s the price for two over-the-counter medications and a prescription of Vitamin D not covered by Medicaid.  I plotted ahead on our way to the pharmacy.  I was ready to be a joyful giver.  $23.19—paid, gladly.  We sat together on a bench at the back of Walgreens, and I taught my young friend the difference between prescription drugs and over the counter ones. 

🎶 O Come Let Us Adore Him 🎶

Dropping my friend off at her house, after quizzing her repeatedly on how to take her new meds, my heart was full—again.  She thanked me for spending my own money.  Her gratitude was an unexpected bonus.  As we said goodbye, I told her that many have helped me in my life, even with medication.  Maybe someday she’ll have the opportunity to help someone else pay for their medication.  Freely I have received abundantly from kindnesses I could never repay.  And in that moment, I was grateful for an opportunity to freely give. 

I came home from that event scrambling to answer a call from my Specialty Pharmacy about a recent delivery of my leukemia medication—the super expensive immunotherapy drug that I take every day, for ever.  The operator politely informed me, “You have an outstanding balance of $5668.64, would you like to go ahead and pay that now…?”  

What!? NO!!  I can’t pay that now, or ever, really.

I hung up the phone with a deep sigh and flopped on the couch.  

Sunlight and quiet beckoned me to be still.

I came for just a moment—empty-handed and wholehearted—into the presence of Divinity.  And something shifted in my soul.

I came reviewing the vulnerable places I had just been with my 14-year-old friend.  I came with the satisfaction of having paid her pharmacy bill in full—all 23 dollars and 19 cents of it.  I came offering up my own fear and outstanding pharmacy bill.

I came not knowing.

🎶 O Come O Come Emmanuel 🎶

Christmas is about coming. O come Emmanuel.  God be with us!  Joy is that the promised Messiah is come.

That’s Jesus.

O Come, Desire Of The Nations, Bind
In One The Hearts Of All Mankind;
Bid Every Strife And Quarrel Cease
And Fill The World With Heaven’s Peace.

Jesus came to restore peace on earth, but he showed up first as a newborn—the epitome of defenseless, vulnerable, and needy.

His first invitation was to come and allow others to care and adore Him.

I have come so many times, vulnerable and weak.

So when a 14 year old vulnerably entrusts me to come into her need for medical care, I feel summoned to privilege.  The gift of presence—her presence with me.  The joy of seeing someone’s humble self and meeting them in that place.  Sharing a holy space.

The invitation of Christmas is to just come.

Come needy.

Come heavy.

Come weak.

Come ready.

Come all you faithful.

Come with hands full, ready to give.

Come with hands empty, ready to receive.

Come along with Him.

Come back.

Come over and just be.

Come in need of $23 or $6000.

Come with your whole self.

Even if you have nothing to bring that’s fit to give a King, just come.

Rising Above

~ Georgia Coats ~ 3 Comments

An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.  MLK, Jr.

I’m not sure if I’m haunted or inspired.  

  • 20 years and I’m still trying to figure out living.
  • 20 years since my leukemia diagnosis in September of 2000.
  • 20 years of grasping at my sense of self in the midst of chronic limitations. 
  • 20 years of a tenacious spirit learning to dance in fragile body.

How can I rise above my personal cancer and be a part of treating malignancies that face all humanity?

This question has been weighing on my mind since last September.  I needed to rise up for my journey of Chronic Hope in order to clarify my identity.  

20 years later, there is clarity to rise.  But rising above is not a climb.  

It’s a descent. 

My challenge, quarantined in 2020, has been to listen, lament, and repent of injustice in myself and in our culture.  To weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn.  I really wanted to just take action.  But I had not stopped to consider the lack in my understanding of justice and society.  And how justice for all reflects the heart of God.

There is a lot of humble stillness and lowly heart work involved in rising.  Nothing glorious or stunning.  Just quiet, dark, quarantined heart work.

If the world had not shut down in a global pandemic, would I have done that work?  

I don’t exactly know how to take action, but one thing has become clear: 

If I don’t take action, something in me will die.  Or will never have the chance to truly live.  

So, from this humbler and haunted place I desperately seek to learn in community from those who are taking action. To join. To grow.  To serve.  I thought the vulnerable and the marginalized needed me.  It turns out, we need each other.

Rising above is not mine to achieve.  Starting to live is not mine to map out.  

Mine is to quietly join the labors of love.  

  • To learn from those who weary their hearts and dirty their hands for the plight of others.  
  • To allow the plight of the vulnerable to be felt deeply and personally.  
  • To understand how to do justly, because I cannot truly love mercy without it.  Mercy accompanies justice.
  • Ultimately, to surrender the sense of self I’ve worked so hard to grasp.

Mine is the work of vulnerable humility.

Rising belongs to the Divine Hand that is strong and wise enough to lift me up in due time.

Just curious… what are the daunting malignancies you’ve been called to rise above?

White Noise—A Cry of Repentance

~ Georgia Coats ~ 4 Comments

I’m sorry.

Not I’m sorry, but…

Not I’m sorry, in general.

 

Rather, specifically…

I’m sorry for my ignorance that has perpetuated an unjust status quo.

I’m sorry for my silence when advocacy was needed.

I’m sorry for all the little compromises that left your life more difficult and exhausting.

 

I’m sorry for my complicity in racism.

  • For my fear of not knowing what to do, and so yielding to inaction.
  • For letting false White conceptions of color blindness go unchallenged.
  • For not understanding how the systems I’m a part of and benefit from have put me in a privileged place at your expense.

 

I’m sorry for the White sorry buts that add salt to your wounds.

I’m sorry for being dismissive when the problems of society get too scary for me to handle.

I’m sorry for allowing this or that movie about ugly White racism to appease my conscience and make me feel like I get it—when I don’t.

I’m sorry for getting so used to Black bad news that it has become noise in the background of my passive tranquility.

I’m so sorry for reducing your trauma to my White noise.

 

Deliver me from the guilt of bloodshed, O God, you who are God my Savior, and my tongue will sing of your righteousness. 

Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare your praise. 

You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.

My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.  (Psalm 51: 14-17) 

Lord, forgive us for the pride of thinking we’re innocent.

Lord, expose the hypocrisy in our breaking hearts and lead us to repentance.

Lord, forgive me for being an ambassador of peace but not understanding justice.

Lord, forgive me for being so passionate about Your great love for all nations and tribes, races and languages, yet somehow not having eyes to see and ears to hear the trauma and injustice of my Black brothers and sisters.

Lord, forgive us for our White supremacy—for standing too high on a pillar of infection—like an abscess on our nation.  It’s disgusting.

Lance it. Drain it. Then, heal it.

Like a boil that must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed to the light of human conscience before it can be cured.   MLK Jr.

 

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I see now that racism is a White problem.

I understand now that Black Lives Matter—so much.  I’m sorry I never said so sooner.

I hear your cries of grief.  I’m sorry it took me so long.

I shudder at the images of George Floyd’s murder. And Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor.  I’m sorry for your loss.  Your losses.  I’m sorry for the innumerable losses that have gone unseen.

I can know better.

I can be better.

I can do better.

It’s not your responsibility to enlighten me.  But many have taken the time to love me where I’m at and patiently help me get to a better place.  Thank you.

I know I’ll mess up again.  I know racism has had its ugly effect on me.  I know there are still offensive ways in me.

Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)

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For context: I am white.  I am a follower of Jesus.  I deeply value the authority of the Bible. I am a church goer.  I work in non-profit contexts.  I have been on an intensive journey of listening, learning, and lamenting since May 8, 2020–what would have been Ahmaud Arbery’s 25th birthday.  

The influencers who have significantly informed my understanding, challenged my beliefs on issues of systemic racism, and shaped how I craft my words are: Dr. MLK Jr., Dr. Robin Diangelo, Dr. Anita Phillips, Jemar Tisby, and Mona Haydar.  And my friends, Befkadu Meshesha and Ian Simkins.