I weave stories in my field as a Language & Culture Empowerment Specialistβa learner, a teacher, and a seeker of hidden treasures in Diaspora spacesβ¦
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 wayβover seasoned, over cooked, too dry, too sappy.
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 Iβm painting pictures worth about 1000+ words. Polysemy is a fabulous Greek word that invites multiple possible meanings. Itβs a blend of intentional wordplay to create open and personalized interpretationsβto come away from my reflections with your own challenges, questions, thoughts and aspirationsβto taste for yourself what is simmering.
I aspire to ethically sourced storytelling, marbled with brave, vulnerable introspectionβ¦
My relational connections are a profoundly significant part of my life. As a beloved friend, daughter, mother, teacher, mentor, wife, neighborβ¦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 firstβand 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 scatteredβ¦
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 diasporaβfrom the Greekβthose 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-basedβ¦
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-skinnedβ¦
I am wired to be receptive and perceptive to linguistic patterns, human hearts, and cultural expressions. Attention to detail requires heightened sensitivitiesβnoticing people and rhythms and hidden treasures that could easily get overlooked.
I flourish when I walk in my strengths of empathy and connectednessβ¦
Like stillness and a steeping cup of teaβdaily 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 lostβbut I probably amβ¦
Iβm gifted more with metaphors than with maps. I donβt stay in my lane, because Iβm buzzing from flower to glorious flower. Iβm 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 Iβve traversed in solidarity with the people Iβve shared meals and stories with there. As I wander, Iβm simultaneously pondering the moral of the childrenβs story of Stone Soup and wondering how my global rock collection connects to what it means to inherit the earth as Jesus saidβmaybe itβs one treasured stone at a time.
I continually feed live, active cultures of chronic hopeβ¦
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 breadβintended to be broken and shared in community.
I embrace health-nuttiness and a small spoonβ¦.
I donβt need to take up more space than I do. My sweet spot involves nutrient-dense, small portions of something deliciously inviting and often spontaneousβwhich 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. Itβs often over meals that neighbors become friends and community becomes familyβwhen we share a part of ourselves.
I serve generous portionsβ¦
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.
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 clientsβ needs by making their services into one efficient, effective process in one location.
Explains IRCNOCO Community Navigator, Georgia Coats, βThe driving force behind our mission is successful integration where immigrants and refugees have a place to resettle and call homeβa 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.β
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 βLittle Learnersβ program for preschoolers, and a Womenβsβ Empowerment group.
A daughter of Greek immigrants herself, this organization is near and dear to Georgia Coatsβ heart. βI 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.β
In 2018, the Coats family, now grown to five members, returned to Colorado and settled in Greeley. βThough we still grieve the loss of easy access to falafel, waffles are an important staple for Saturday morning breakfast. Iβve been a language learner my whole lifeβstarting with Greek, then Spanish, then dabbling in Arabic. Iβve learned some things more successfully than othersβbut 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.β
Women’s Empowerment
Georgia joined the IRCNOCO mission in 2020 as a Community Navigator, a big change from teaching English. βTeaching 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.β
In 2020, she also began to gather women together at the center for the Womenβs Empowerment Group. βWe 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 otherβs journeys. We believe that girls with dreams become women of vision.β
Theyβve seen that same support in the larger Greeley community as well. βAn outpouring of serving with my local church and working part time at the IRCNOCO has led me into a beautiful community cross-section called Zoeβs Study Buddies,β 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.
And this community support goes both ways. βOur 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,β 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 doesnβt 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. βTony asked if there was a way I could take them home to keep them frozen so they wouldnβt spoil. I quickly called my husband, who came by the center to temporarily store the birds in our freezer.β
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. βI felt like I was in just the right place at just the right timeβto 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,β Georgia concluded.
When asked about what she loves most about IRCNOCO, Georgia said, βI 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.β
In parting, Georgia had this call to action for readers. βAs 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 βwelcoming committeeβ for those who want to call Weld County their home.β
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.
In October WE shared goals that weβve already accomplished, which opened space for others to ask questions and celebrate each otherβs 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 winβtogether!
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 Womenβs Empowerment. I have the privilege of joining these women as our Womenβs Empowerment Coordinator.
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 ofΒ traveling to three countries, each with unique language, culture, and learning dynamics. As aΒ Language and Culture Learning Coach, navigating new cultures is my sweet spot. On the other hand, navigatingΒ the physical world is a challenge for me, and getting lost is something Iβve learned to factor into life.Β This dynamic providedΒ ample opportunity for Zoe and me to problem solve together in new places.Β
The overall goal of ourΒ trip was for Zoe and me to be empowered together through the joys and trials of traveling adventuresβbefore Zoe sets out on her independent college journey.Β 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-onβto 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 rocksβ¦
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 worldβI 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 todayβs 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.
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.
Iβm a princΠ΅ss of 2022β¦ Dancing all night, wΠ΅aring 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 Parisβto get castles out of her system before heading off to college. Sheβs been working, saving, budgeting, and planning for months.
My joy has been to accompany her in realizing her visionβ¦
to learn to navigate new places
to problem-solve the unexpected
to figure things out even when we donβt 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: Germanyβvia 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 theLiebe⦠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 Iβm 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 Bangladeshβ¦
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 canβt 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. Iβve 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 itβ¦
(A summer camp fave)
The girls in the villages and the dorm love singing and dancing. Weβve learned we need to have a song ready at a momentβs 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 Iβve ever been.
July 19:
Rock #3 has traveled so far from its Colorado home.
When we went to visit Deeβs 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 giftβa 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 parentsβ meeting in Deeβs village. The girls are amazing, so it was fun to meet the moms who came to support their daughtersβ educationsβin place of child marriage. If the parents arenβt 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 Lulaβthe 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 Programβin the villages, the dorms, the slumsβ¦ Iβm 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 familyβ¦
(I love you, Barney)
Zoe and I have learned to teach English lessons with only a momentβs notice. Today we joined the Student Teachers from the college dorm as they taught their classes in small schoolhouses in the slum areasβfull of bright-eyed learners. With a great big hug and a kiss from me to youβ¦ I loved this impromptu English lesson with these cuties.
July 23:
Heading homeβ¦ 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 conesβan 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 placeβ¦. 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 canβt 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 seriouslyβ¦ 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: Sheβs ready. Sheβs ready to ask hard questions, explore possible dreams, taste new colors. Sheβs ready for home away from home, for new friends, and new levels of adulting. Iβm 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 homeβthe 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 byβand 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 collectionβa tangible reminder of gratitude for our epic 2022 adventures.
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 upβbeyond what we are capable of lifting.
Em-Power-Ment Requires a Power Source
And Iβll rise up, Iβll rise like the day
Iβll rise up, Iβll rise unafraid,
Iβll rise up, And Iβll do it a thousand times againβ¦
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 Womenβs 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 Easterβthousands of timesβas we celebrate such empowerment. He claimed agency over laying down and raising up his own lifeβa 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.
Iβll rise like the dayβ¦Semantically speaking, a day canβt rise itself. Itβs not the agent of rising. It needs to be risen up.
Get back up and invite the women you know. Donβt give up on this important journey of Womenβs 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.
Womenβs Empowerment has been resurrected. I invited my friends of varying languages and religious backgroundsβwomen who have invited me into their vulnerable places where Iβve had the privilege of lifting them up towards their goals. This was a vulnerable place for me. I canβt succeed at Womenβs 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 thingsβand as empowered women, we learn, some more awkwardly than others, to wear them all.
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 Navigatoris 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 peopleβs lives, loved ones, and longings in order to fill out spaces on a form felt something like washing other peopleβs 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 bootsβto 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. Andβ¦ inviting others into reaching my ownβthe things we canβt do just on our own. Carrying each otherβs heavy loads, together.
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. Thatβs 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 canβt do heavy lifting alone or for long. We need to know that lifting is getting us somewhereβthat thereβs an end goal.
Iβm not sure whatβs in it for me. I keep asking myself what my expectations are. I keep searching my own intentions. Thereβs a time investment. Thereβs a financial cost. But there is ZERO obligation. And yet I keep coming. The vortex of need is overwhelmingβbeyond what I could possibly make a dent in. Iβm not naΓ―ve enough to think Iβm 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 canβt even solve the smallest of problems.
πΆ O Come all Ye Faithful, Joyful and Triumphant πΆ
There are other faithful people who come. If I didnβt 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.
πΆ Joy to the World, the Lord is Come πΆ
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. Itβs not that her mom wouldnβt love to come, caring for her precious daughter. Itβs just that as a single mom of 10 kids, working fulltime at the meatpacking plant while studying English at night, thereβs just not enough time in her days to navigate a well visit for child #5.
$23.19. Thatβs 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. $23.19βpaid, 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.
πΆ O Come Let Us Adore Him πΆ
Dropping my friend off at her house, after quizzing her repeatedly on how to take her new meds, my heart was fullβagain. 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 sheβll 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 medicationβthe super expensive immunotherapy drug that I take every day, forΒ ever.Β Β The operator politely informed me,Β βYou have an outstanding balance of $5668.64, would you like to go ahead and pay that nowβ¦?βΒ Β
What!? NO!! I canβt 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 momentβempty-handed and wholeheartedβinto 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 fullβall 23 dollars and 19 cents of it. I came offering up my own fear and outstanding pharmacy bill.
I came not knowing.
πΆ O Come O Come Emmanuel πΆ
Christmas is about coming. O come Emmanuel. God be with us! Joy is that the promised Messiah is come.
Thatβs 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 Heavenβs Peace.
Jesus came to restore peace on earth, but he showed up first as a newbornβthe 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 presenceβher presence with me. The joy of seeing someoneβs 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 thatβs fit to give a King, just come.
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.
Iβm not sure if Iβm haunted or inspired.
20 years and Iβm 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.
Itβs 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.
I donβt exactly know how to take action, but one thing has become clear:
If I donβt 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 Iβve 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 curiousβ¦ what are the daunting malignancies youβve been called to rise above?
Iβm sorry for my ignorance that has perpetuated an unjust status quo.
Iβm sorry for my silence when advocacy was needed.
Iβm sorry for all the little compromises that left your life more difficult and exhausting.
Iβm 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 Iβm a part of and benefit from have put me in a privileged place at your expense.
Iβm sorry for the White sorry buts that add salt to your wounds.
Iβm sorry for being dismissive when the problems of society get too scary for me to handle.
Iβm sorry for allowing this or that movie about ugly White racism to appease my conscience and make me feel like I get itβwhen I donβt.
Iβm sorry for getting so used to Black bad news that it has become noise in the background of my passive tranquility.
Iβm 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.Β
Open my lips, Lord, and my mouth will declare your praise.Β
You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
My sacrifice, O God, isΒ a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise. Β (Psalm 51: 14-17)Β
Lord, forgive us for the pride of thinking weβre 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 supremacyβfor standing too high on a pillar of infectionβlike an abscess on our nation.Β Itβs 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.Β Β MLK Jr.
I see now that racism is a White problem.
I understand now that Black Lives Matterβso much.Β Iβm sorry I never said so sooner.
I hear your cries of grief.Β Iβm sorry it took me so long.
I shudder at the images of George Floydβs murder. And Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor.Β Iβm sorry for your loss.Β Your losses.Β Iβm sorry for the innumerable losses that have gone unseen.
I can know better.
I can be better.
I can do better.
Itβs not your responsibility to enlighten me.Β But many have taken the time to love me where Iβm at and patiently help me get to a better place. Β Thank you.
I know Iβll mess up again.Β I know racism has had its ugly effect on me.Β I know there are still offensive ways in me.
Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.Β See if there is any offensive way in me and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)
For context: I am white. Β I am a follower of Jesus. Β I deeply value the authority of the Bible. I am a church goer. Β I work in non-profit contexts. Β 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. Β
Virtual church at 11-ish.Β Pilates and worship.Β Coffee with my Sweet.Β Iβm grateful for his enthusiasm in making my perfect cup.Β I have been working on the right lyrics that are in harmony with my heart.Β Simon and Garfunkel always have space in my struggles.Β But they must be interspersed with strength of the human spirit, and the hope of worship.Β My heart is tender towards key words: shelter, isolation, hidden, breathβ¦
We are defined by our safe people and everyone else.Β Who are the people bio-connected to each other? What about those who live alone?Β Who are their bio-connected βweβ?
Following news out of Detroit.Β Things are exponentially worse.Β The Henry Ford hospital is where my hematologist of 15 years lives.Β My babies were born there.Β It is a state of emergency.
Michigan seems like a dream to me nowβ¦ Iβve come to look for Americaβ¦Michigan feels like a dream to me, too, Simon & Garfunkel.
The Value of Closure
I am struggling with closure.Β Some things have ended abruptly and I find they wreck me more emotionally than they would at another time.Β My resilience is thin.Β With tears, itβs best to sleep on it.Β If my resilience is thin, othersβ is too.Β God, help me to see as you see.
Strong for my people.Β Rest.Β Prayer.Β I am ready to take a small courageous step towards healthy closure in uncertainty.Β Courage is fear prayed up.Β Yup.
Monday, March 30: It’s okay not to be okay
Ella is in tears.Β She feels socially limited in the middle of her brother and sister.Β She has done everything we have thought to do at home by lunchtime.Β Aimlessness brings sadness.
She needs her middle school peeps.Β I tell her itβs okay to cry.Β Itβs okay not to be okay.
Magic in the little thingsβa fixed bike, fresh berries and a can of whipped cream.Β Zoe and Ella set off on a park adventure of their own.Β Then we make lentil soup.Β I see her perk up just a little.
Itβs okay not to be okay.
Jaminβs new tetherball arrives from Amazon.Β Steve and Jamin head to his school to hook it up to the pole there.Β Jamin is that 5th graderβthe one who has prayed for school to end since it started.Β He is in a happy place.
My walks get longer and more emotional as I listen through my varied lyrics.Β I am weak.Β I am strong.Β It feels like winter and loneliness. I rise up.Β I have breath. I shelter in with people I love dearly.
It helps to have purpose and set baby goals…Β
I have a little space in my emotional reserves to follow up my concern for my refugee neighbor friends. I check in and brought Legos for the littles (after running them through the dishwasher).Β I inadvertently photobombed their cute family picβat a distance.
Seeing their faces made my heart happy.Β π
I walk in the rain and the sunshine. I am oscillating.Β Laughing. Crying. Purposefulness.Β Aimlessness. Weight of the world. Isolation. Safety. And Fear.
Everyone check in with someone, ok?Β
Celebrating my small mom victories.Β My kids seem more settled.Β Cake pops made.Β Tetherball played.Β Lentil soup is perfectly seasoned comfort foodβreminiscent of homemade dhal from a past season of life and friendship.
Brother, let me be your shelter
Never leave you all alone
I can be the one you call when youβre low.Β NeedtoBreathe
I hug my people.Β I have people to touch and kiss.Β We pray together anticipating the new day. The new school schedule.Β A plan. A purpose. We pray that summer camp wonβt be canceled.
Tuesday, March 31: Collecting scattered thoughts
Everyone sets an alarm. Online school is starting, and we have family implementation plans in place.Β Ella is chattery about her teachers and friends.Β Her eyes light up.Β Jamin is moaning but following the plan. Zoe persists with vigor in all her endeavors.Β Steveβs virtual work continues per usual.Β I write 3 new virtual meetings set on my empty calendar.
Time to write. To think. To be alone with my thoughts in my bustling home.Β Interruptions are frequent.Β Flexibility of this new norm.
Clarity of thought.Β Processing negative emotions in healthy ways.Β Moving forward.
Deep breath.Β I will turn on the news.
Physical goals: Engage my core muscles more oftenβto that end, wear less leggings and more regular pants.Β Walk a little further.Β Add a few extra sit ups, crunches, or pushups each time I do some. Baby steps in physical exercise make me feel like I can control something. And move forward in something.
Wednesday, April 1: Tears are my superpower
Aimlessness is real.
Scheduling is helpful.
Technology is frustrating.
Closureβ¦find closure where you can on even the little things, since so many things ended or were put on pause so abruptly.
I courageously show up for my meeting to find closure, and I cry through the second half of it.Β I guess Iβm still not ok and itβs going to come out somewhereβlike Zoey does with song and dance in the show, I do with tears.Β Closure on this one thing feels good and right and satisfying.Β But Iβm still crying.Β Awkward, but unapologetic.Β Express gratitude.Β Everyoneβs resilience is thin.Β Itβs okay not to be okay.
Rollerblading with my girls is a sweet time on a beautiful day.Β Normal, not normal.Β Strange, not strange.Β No one is out. Everyone is distant on a college campus in spring.Β I feel simultaneously content and overwhelmed.Β We go about our days distancing, while others canβt breathe. And others die.Β How does closure come for loved ones who experience loss?
At the end of the day Iβm both relieved and bummed that there were no innovative April Foolβs jokes going on at our house. Β Not in a place to create and laugh and bounce back just yet.
Thursday, April 2: Wearing mascara doesn’t prevent tears
Time to face my fledgling teaching plan. A meeting with my boss. I teach adults. Moms like me who show up to my English language class after their kids are settled in school. I can just barely settle my kids to move forward with a plan of any kind. I barely have a moment to catch up with my own thoughts and emotions⦠innovation is measly and uninterrupted minutes to wade through emails and move towards problem-solving are things from that other life realm.
Deep breath.Β Grateful for the closure I found yesterday.Β Like the strategy for debt snowballβknocking out smaller debts first.
Moving forward.
Itβs okay not to be okay.Β But itβs not okay to cry in this team meeting with my boss. Maybe mascara will help prevent tears.
I choose Pilates and prayer over fine-tooth-comb reading all the pertinent email strings before my meeting.
Deep breath, again.Β In for 3, out for 4.
πΆ And Iβll rise upβ¦
I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
For you…Β πΆ
Innovation, momentum, problem-solving and resilienceβin short supply.Β Β Like ventilators for patients and masks for healthcare workers.
Mascara does not help prevent displaced tears in zoom meetings. But actively turning off video or audio as needed provides a sense of control over the little things.
And having a boss who hears you… doesn’t prevent tears either.
Itβs cold today.Β There is no mustering of motivation to run the track.Β No energy to even think about trying to psych myself up for more than a cold, grey walk.
Listening to Simon and Garfunkel and remembering that time when I was on an island. And I missed my boat. And I cried about it…Β πππ
πΆΒ I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb I touch no one and no one touches me
I am a rock I am an island And a rock feels no pain And an island never criesΒ πΆ
Islands are surrounded by salt water… you would never know if they were crying.
Overwhelmed and grateful. I am definitely not an island.
On My Mind 