My Signature Blend

November 9, 2025November 9, 2025 ~ 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.

Rising Above

September 15, 2020September 15, 2020 ~ 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?

Compromised: Immuno-and-Otherwise

April 17, 2020April 17, 2020 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 4 Comments

I got a call the other day from Dr. K, my former hematologist-oncologist of 15 years. From Michigan. I don’t know if it’s the weight of the heavy Colorado spring snow on budding branches, or the heaviness of a pandemic that hangs on every soul, but I cherish the check ins that comes my way.

Being officially in the immunocompromised category by chronic leukemia and the immunotherapy treatment for it, I feel privileged to receive random check in calls from caring people wanting to know if I am doing okay during this pandemonium that has taken over the globe. They want to make sure I am taking extra care of myself.

Emotionally Broadsided

When Dr. K called, I felt emotionally broadsided by the unexpected check in. I’m sure he has a million things to think about at the main hospital, hit hard with COVID-19, in the heart of Detroit. But he paused to think of me. To make sure I was doing okay.

That call confirmed my self-diagnosis. I am emotionally compromised. Yup. Emotions are just below the surface and ready to well up. At. Any. Moment.

Just a fair warning: If you call to check in and say kind things—I’ll probably cry. If you stop to tell me your sad or touching news—I’ll probably cry. It’s possible I might start out laughing at something and end up crying. Or vice versa. Why limit ourselves to one emotion at a time when we can feel multiple, complex emotions simultaneously?

Mentally Tumbled

And then there’s my brain. My thoughts tumble around in my head like wet laundry. The significant intertwined with the curious and bombarded with the mundane and distracted. Chaotic and scattered. It’s the opposite of focused. I’m lacking goals, and trajectory is vague. So many thoughts circling around in each presented moment. Yup. Definitely mentally compromised, too.

“How is Strength my Weakness?”

My favorite part of the movie Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle is when the characters discover that they each have specific strengths and weakness within the Jumanji game. Kevin Hart’s character discovers that strength is actually on his list of Weaknesses.

I love his question:

“How is strength my weakness?”

But I also like to flip things around:

What if weakness is actually my strength?

What if tears are my superpower? And grief is a place I’ve grown comfortable with?

What if chronic hope comes from chronic illness?

What if immunocompromised means I’m also immuno-alert?

What if mentally scattered means centered in the present?

What if my limitations are the exact ingredients of sensitive, present, and vulnerable I need now, in the middle of a pandemic?

Broadsided by Grace

If I were to connect with the Designer of my strengths and weaknesses, how would that go?

I imagine it to be similar to The Apostle Paul’s process, being broadsided by grace—grace that came through a conduit of weakness.

Paul pleaded and discussed with the Divine to take away his weakness.

His Designer declared:

My grace is enough; it’s all you need.

My strength comes into its own in your weakness.

And so, the Apostle Paul relinquished himself to be broadsided by grace:

Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride… And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become. (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

Weakness was the Saint’s necessary ingredient for greater sources of grace.

To hear the voice of my Designer… Not to tell me I am healed or that I am strong. But to hear that at the heart of humanity is weakness, and that on my list of strengths, weakness is at the top.

The weaker I get, the stronger I become. In my current mentally scattered state, I’m okay to sit in the presence of this paradox. I’m okay to lavishly love on another grieving soul with my unstoppable tears. I’m awkwardly eager to hold up my best super girl akimbo pose with my favorite napping blanket flapping cape-like behind me in the wind.

I’m surprisingly okay. Immuno-okay. I’m being cautious, and there’s not much to report health wise or otherwise. So strong in weakness. So okay with my compromised state (at least in this present moment).

Chronic Hope: the Video

December 20, 2019December 20, 2019 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 1 Comment

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I feel incredibly grateful. I feel like I’ve been given a second lease on life. If not this time in history, if not this diagnosis, if not so many things along the way, I may not be here. I may not been able to live 20 years with this cancer diagnosis.

It has been a full circle year for me.

This year, my husband and I celebrated 20 years of marriage.

This year, I also have had the privilege to reflect back over my cancer journey from a healthy place, back in the place where it all began.

To cultivate gratitude.

To set goals for the future.

To be amazed by the grace and power of God along the way.

I’m thankful for my amazing husband, Stephen Coats, who produced this 7-minute summary of our 20-year cancer journey:

This video was produced alongside a series of Chronic Hope articles for the Yemeni American News, 2019:

Georgia Coats is a Language & Culture Learning Coach, freelance writer, educator, wife, and mother of three who is passionate about healthy mind-body-spirit living. Chronic Hope is Georgia’s collection of stories, lessons, and life adventures of living alongside chronic leukemia, cancer of the white blood cells, for two decades. She often shares what’s on her mind at: www.onmymindbygeorgia.wordpress.com

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CHRONIC HOPE #5: From Battling Fatigue to Balancing an Energy Budget

September 13, 2019 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 5 Comments

I knew the call would come, like the expectation of a winter storm.

My oncologist forecasted that my body would eventually build up a resistance to my medication for chronic myeloid leukemia (CML) after going off of it 3 times to have 3 miracle babies.

That dreaded call came the day after Christmas in the middle of a family movie. The nurse dictated dates for blood tests and biopsies. It was clear as I fumbled for a pen while running out of the darkened theatre that she didn’t care which dates worked for my grad school class schedule, my teaching hours, or my family life.

Bottom line, I needed to rewrite my priority list—ASAP!

I was thankful for a short commute between hospital and university in the heart of Detroit. I naively thought I could change medications and not skip a beat in class. I didn’t account for the unexpected toxicities of Sprycel, my new miracle medication. It was super effective in treating cancer. But my fatigued body could barely make it through a day.

5 Steps of Energy Budgeting

I know what it’s like to live on a tight financial budget. I’ve been stretching dollars for decades. Taking Sprycel syphoned off a significant portion of my energy each day. It was clear that I drastically needed to rebalance my energy budget to account for success within my new limitations of fatigue.

1. Set Goals

Set clear, attainable goals. Identify the most important places to spend limited resources of energy. For me it was: Finish grad school. Aspire to excellence—as a mom, wife and student. As I pushed forward with my Master’s degree, I became a goal-setting master.

2. Prioritize

Show up wholeheartedly

Decide the most important ways to expend mental, emotional and spiritual energy, and then let go of the other stuff.

If I aspired to excellence as a mom, wife, and graduate student, I couldn’t also be an excellent teacher. I quit my teaching job, and we creatively rebalanced an even tighter financial budget.

3. Eliminate Excess

Identify and get rid of unnecessary energy drains. It’s like knowing you’re going to shipwreck if you don’t throw stuff overboard. Learn to say “NO” to superfluous obligations and to excess noise in your head.

Nursing a grudge or second-guessing good decisions were luxuries I couldn’t afford. Instead, I learned the energy-rejuvenating power of clear thinking cultivated by a rhythm of rest, walks, and intimate times in prayer.

4. Show Up Wholeheartedly

Once goals are set, priorities are clear, and junk has been eliminated, be present in your priorities. Embrace them fully and generously.

It was costly to be a mother of three and a non-traditional, cancer fighting grad student. I wasn’t going to miss any of those prioritized moments. I studied hard. I also learned to set studies aside and wholeheartedly cherish puppy movies with my feverish 4^thgrader as the privileged place of being a mom.

5. Celebrate Success

Find joy in the things that contribute to success. Setbacks and shortcomings are ingredients for grit when it comes to celebrating achievement.

I regularly thanked my amazing professors. When my worn out body ached, I thanked God for my cozy bed as I crawled into it. I cried tears of gratefulness as my husband picked up my slack at home.

When I finally finished graduate school, debt free, after 5 ½ years, celebrations of success were the sweetest.

I learned to thank God for my miracle medication.

It keeps my body cancer-free. It has afforded me peace of mind, power in weakness, freedom in limitations, and grace in weariness. I have learned to live more lightly and freely as I regularly surrender all my priorities to my highest priority of all—loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength.

This article was published in a series of articles for the Yemeni American News, September, 2019, p. 10:

BEAUTY IN THE PATTERNS

March 18, 2019August 16, 2019 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 8 Comments

Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes and dripped boldly onto the sterile paper that covered the examination table. As I lay in fetal position whispering a desperate prayer, I could feel the numbed pressure and intense inner pain of the thick metal needle probing deep into my hipbone. I had stopped counting bone marrow biopsies after a dozen. They had become routine over the years of chronic leukemia treatments. With a thick layer of gauze under an over-sized Band-Aid, the doctor patched up my tiny yet deep bone wound and sent me on my way.

My husband hugged me tight, handed me my coat, and ushered me out the door. I still had time to make it to my absolutely favorite graduate Spanish linguistics class. Being an already awkward, over-achieving, non-traditional grad student, I decided limping in late with tearstains and a bandaged backside was still worth it. I slipped into my front row seat and began to copiously copy the tree diagrams sprawled all over the whiteboards in the room. Syntax. I couldn’t decide if I loved syntax or morphology more. Good thing I didn’t have to choose—I just love the one I’m with.

My profesora gave me a sympathetic look and proceeded with her lecture. Compassionately, she had offered that I could take an Incomplete for her class if I needed to during this uncertain time of changing leukemia treatments. That was unthinkable. It wasn’t that I needed to “stay busy” during a difficult time, it’s that I needed to be part of something meaningful.

Who knew that la lingüística could provide such purpose?

Within the field of linguistics, the goal is to discover patterns in language. Once the patterns are discovered, linguists search out evidence found in natural speech to describe the rules and identify the boundaries of such defined patterns. I find comfort in the certainty of patterns that allow us to explore deep mysteries of minds and cultures.

Did you know that there are universal principles found in all the world’s languages that set human language apart from animal communication? This is where geeky meets inspirational.

According to my favorite textbook, Introducción a la lingüística hispánica, creativity in a linguistic sense is the ability to take a finite number of items (a set of sounds, letters, morphemes, or words) and to produce an utterance that has never been said before. We have the power to create. This creativity allows us to make friend a verb, and to invent novel combinations like un-Google-able and stay-cation.

Prevarication reflects our human ability to fabricate, that is, both to deceive and imagine other possible worlds.

Recursion is how we use a finite number of language structures and patterns to produce infinite possibilities:

This is the house that Jack built. This is the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the rat that ate the malt that lay in the house that Jack built. This is the cat that killed the rat that…

Patterns help our finite human minds fathom infinity.

We can ponder impossible things. We can process the past and hope for the future. Our language capacity allows us to imagine, to weave together a story—whether it is to fabricate a brilliant excuse or invent a fantastical new dimension.

Patterns are discernable and predictable structures that repeat and could potentially go on forever. They are God’s eternal fingerprint on our temporal world. He set eternity in our hearts and gave us the tools to process and express His everlasting essence. He has wired us to marvel at divine mystery and to comprehend great and unsearchable things.

In the midst of life’s unknowns, I have learned to cry out to the One who knows me. To seek the One who penetrates marrow and searches souls. To search for His beauty in patterns. And not just in language. God has scattered discernable patterns all over this world for us to discover and describe and fathom and imagine.

Meal:

Maybe you have Taco Tuesday. We have omelets on Fridays. Embrace the rhythm of routine, but pause to savor it. Make your favorite omelet, but tweak the ingredients just enough to stir your culinary imagination. Add smoked Gouda or sundried tomatoes. Top with sautéed mushrooms and onions. Try a side of roasted sweet potatoes drizzled with olive oil.

Song:

I love patterns in music—both the tune and the lyrics. With hands opened towards heaven, listen, notice, and discover; surrender to His design.

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Prayer:

Lord, you are infinitely loving. You set eternity in our hearts that we may comprehend unsearchable things. I call out to you today. Reveal yourself to me through the patterns in this world. Transform me out of the rut of life-depleting routine and into the unforced rhythm of your grace. Thank you, Jesus.

Time:

Take time to play with words and play on words. Marvel at the morphemes that make un-fathom-able possible. Listen closely to the whispered words God has for you. Try to keep track of unsearchable things. Get lost in a pattern and imagine new possible worlds. Share a good word from His Word with a friend. https://www.thecommonyear.com/blog/2019/3/16/beauty-in-the-patterns-georgia-coats

Responding to a Hurting World: Lessons from the Little Drummer Boy

December 12, 2018December 17, 2018 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 5 Comments

There are so many ways to get involved in a hurting world. Which is a good thing, because there is SO. MUCH. HURT. in our world. My heart leans towards people in transition, humans who are suffering, those who are trying to make it out of messes. Immigrants coming to a new land. Refugees fleeing war and manmade disasters. Those who have left home, and in humility come to a new place. They just need a little help along the way.

So, what to do about it? Turn to the wisdom of some classic Christmas lyrics for inspiration… the little musician who gave his all, even though it felt like so little.

Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum

COME. The first step is to receive an invitation and just plain show up. The invitation is there to join something bigger than ourselves. To be a part of something we can’t fix or solve. To make it personal. To just come.

A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum

SEE. Come and see the things that are happening in the world around us. Let need, curiosity, pain, and empathy compel us to observe and join the messiness of our world in new ways. To walk alongside a stranger in a strange land. To enter someone’s story.

Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum

BRING. Come, see, what’s happening. Bring what you have. It may feel small and insignificant, but it is your offering to bring anyways. Sometimes all I have to offer is myself. And in a big, scary, complex world what I have feels so insignificant.

To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum

LAY IT DOWN. Let’s lay down our gifts, time, talents, resources as an offering. To show honor. It may feel insignificant, but showing up has value. Taking time for someone shows they’re worth it. Honoring another through a life-changing transition, and laying before them what we have expresses incredible value.

…When we come.

BUT… we all face very real and present excuses, fears, and limitations…

I am a poor boy, too

I’m just one person, with limited talents and resources. Many say… I’m not a teacher like you. I would say… I’m not a lawyer like so-and-so, or an activist, or an influencer. I’m just a ………………. trying to make it in the world (you fill in the blank).

Even our best is so limited.

I have no gift to bring, that’s fit to give our King

I have nothing to give that would be of significance. How can I help? How can my small offerings possibly make a difference?

Start small. If we all scooch over just a little in our row, we could make room for one more person to sit down. What if everyone came, saw the need, and brought their little offerings? That would be a significant number of insignificant offerings. Maybe it would change the world.

What could those insignificant offerings look like?

Just come. Show up for someone you know doing a work you admire in the world.

Just see… just listen. Ask tough questions, hear difficult stories. Take time to process another perspective or another person’s journey.

Just bring yourself, your unique talents, your small offerings.

Maybe you have moments to read to a child.
Maybe you can pick up that book you know might challenge your thinking.
Maybe you can frequent a gas station or an ice cream truck where you can get to know a fellow sojourner just trying to make it in the world.
Maybe you invite someone new over.
Maybe you make that donation.
Maybe you share a perspective on social media that might make others think differently.
Maybe you start within–identifying a fear, letting go of bitterness, or choosing to forgive.

Who knows how scooching over might look for you. Who knows what gift you bring, or how it might be fit to honor another?

I played my drum for Him, I played my best for Him,

pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum, pum, pum

Whatever you do, do it wholeheartedly. Even if it is small and insignificant. Make it your best offering.

Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.

Relish in that smile. The smile of helping someone out when they needed it most. Showing up when it was difficult. Offering when you felt like you had nothing. Or maybe you are weary from many offerings that never feel like enough. Pause.

Receive that joy.

Recently, I heard an Arabic version of The Little Drummer Boy. It was my invitation to learn some new Arabic words and practice rudimentary reading skills. What I found was a treasured perspective I wasn’t anticipating.

With the backdrop of endless unrest in Palestine–the homeland of the Messiah and the singer–Vivian Bishara‘s lyrics of worshiping the King but having no worthy gift to bring becomes so real. Regardless of our politics, war, hunger, and poverty are very real aspects of the world the Messiah came into–and the reason for the season today. Emmanuel–God with us–in our messy, complex, torn up places. Let’s come, and see, and lay down our gifts, or our lives, or both. To honor life.

To honor a Life-giving King.

… When we come.

HOME: Somewhere between John Denver and Eminem

July 10, 2018July 10, 2018 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 6 Comments

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It was midnight sometime B.C.E (Before Children Era) and I was walking the aisles of a nearly empty grocery store at Christmastime in east Dearborn. I had a breakdown in the canned food aisle as I became keenly aware of John Denver’s voice piping through the store…

And the Colorado Rocky Mountain high,
I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky,
You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply,
Rocky Mountain high, Colorado…

Home of 20+ years came rushing back as I imagined a Colorado sunset while selecting a can of beans. My husband and I were alone in a new city, and our budget allowed us to go home for Christmas only in our dreams.

I didn’t even like John Denver. But in that moment, the power of a song lyric perfectly positioned in time and context stirred something deep in my heart.

There were countless dark days when I wanted to go running back to familiar and safe foods, friendships, traditions, scenery…

Home Sweet Home

It was my chronic leukemia treatments that routed us to the heart of Motown. One by one, each of our miracle Michiganders grounded us here. Much of our tight budget was reserved for paying off three miracle pregnancies, treatments, and births—no regrets. It meant, though, that our young family of five embraced cozy Christmases in our little Dearborn home.

It was the adventure of diversity in east Dearborn that kept us persevering through grey skies and bone-chillingly cold winters. It was the landscape of learning to love our neighbors and learning to be loved by them that made home here real.

It was in Motown I had learned about motherhood. Priority, ingenuity, perseverance, gratitude. The power of compelling song lyrics to draw depths of strength from a human heart. GRIT. It was driving into Detroit, scrounging for parking money at Wayne State as I pushed through five years of grad school that I knew the shift of “home” was real.

I was working towards a Master’s Degree in Language Learning. My passion and research were in the heart of authentic song lyrics. Song lyrics are a great resource for gaining cultural perspectives and memorizing new language forms–the perfect blend of geeky and inspirational.

I was stuck in traffic heading east on the 94. Eminem came on the radio…

Maybe that’s why I can’t leave Detroit
It’s the motivation that keeps me going
This is the inspiration I need.

Eminem’s rapped intensity stirred something in me. I had joined a collective of people struggling to survive, to push through, to succeed when the odds are against them.

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There’s No Place Like Home

Now, our sense of home is shaken. We will say good-bye to Motown and imagine a Rocky Mountain high. We will establish a new home. Home—where loved ones are waiting for us—exuberantly. There is nothing like having people you belong to… those who long for your homecoming. aaeb3621-71f2-4989-a9b1-da8b760fe2c1 In the craziness of moving, I crave the beauty of the Rockies—quiet solitude, the forest and the streams, seeking grace in every step (J.Denver). A place where we will continue to follow Jesus’ compelling example of loving God and loving our neighbors.

Maybe that’s why I feel so strange,
Got it all, but I still won’t change. (Eminem)

I do have it all. My heart is expanded across thousands of miles. Grief is real because love is abundant—17 years of cultivated relationships—birthdays, funerals, Thanksgivings, play dates, countless Eid celebrations.

Home is Where the Heart Is

I could never turn my back on a city that made me.
And “life’s been good to me so far” (Eminem)

I don’t have to select an anthem. Instead I will make a crazy summer playlist—one where John Denver and Eminem are back to back. I’ll add a splash of Simon and Garfunkel, some Fiddler on the Roof, Kutless, Crowder, and probably Lady Gaga.

I will laugh, cry, dance, and stare off in the distance on that epic, one-way road trip at the end of July.

Home is the center of our hearts—the place where the presence of God is real. Even in the mess of my mixed emotions, chaotic packing, and our crazy summer playlist of 2018… He makes His home with us.

What’s on your summer playlist?

IMPACT

October 11, 2017November 12, 2017 ~ Georgia Coats ~ Leave a comment

I don’t pretend to understand what’s going on in the mind of a mass shooter. The news is wrought with trying to figure out why the gunman did it. What was in his head? What were his motives?

But today, as I was watching one such report, I began to take notice of impact.

What impact did this one man have?

I don’t know why he chose to make such a horrendous impact, but here are some things I observed:

He had a purpose bigger than himself
He had a plan
He took dangerous risks
He invested to succeed
He powerfully changed the lives of those around him
He was willing to die

I HATE that he had such an impact. I HATE that he was successful.

In times like these, I try to focus on what I know to be true.

Jesus the Messiah gives us insight into the motives of a thief.

A thief is only there to steal and kill and destroy.

The impact of this one man was killing, stealing, and destroying life. But we were not designed for such destruction.

We are created for life—to choose life, to be life-giving.

Jesus the Messiah also reminds us of what life is intended to be.

I came so they can have real and eternal life, more and better life than they ever dreamed of.

So what will our impact be?

We are designed to live out a purpose bigger than ourselves.
It is good to create a plan and plot out success.
Being an agent of change in the world requires taking risk, prioritizing and investing to succeed, and being willing to lay down our lives for something greater than us.

The difference is hope.

We all face in some way the dullness and pains of life that have us wondering why we get up each morning. But there is hope. There is purpose.

We were designed for impact. Our souls long for immortality, somehow, in this fleeting, broken, hurting world.

Hope anchors our souls and keeps us getting up to try to live each day to the fullest.

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While one man caused death, many made music.

In the news interview I watched earlier, musicians Big and Rich, who opened the Route 91 Harvest festival in Vegas performing on October 1, 2017, recounted the beauty of song. The music festival opened that evening with a powerful sing-along of God bless America.

Making music is the whole reason people gathered that night in Vegas. Music draws us and compels something inside us. Different kinds of music draw different people. But, music brings us together; it makes our bodies move.

And when we grieve and mourn our losses, there is music for that, too.

Maren Morris released this song to honor the victims of the Vegas shooting. She addresses HATE directly in a letter:

Dear Hate,

You were there in the garden, like a snake in the grass, I see you in the morning staring through the looking glass. You whisper down through history and echo through these halls.

But I hate to tell you, love’s gonna conquer all

While hate has always been around, love conquers all.

We hold on to that hope because we were designed for impact. That desire to be a part of something greater than ourselves screams of our eternal capacity, our longing to touch immortality and make history. Something inside us dies if we don’t perceive our purpose—and dream, plan, design, and carry out our impact on the world.

Heroes laid down their lives.

I so appreciate the news stories that give voice to the heroes and the rescued amidst the tragedy—those who risked their lives for great impact and greater good.

What I’ve learned from observing a shooter is that it’s not just about making an impact.

What I’ve learned from observing the impact of heroes is that it’s about choosing life.

Heroes sought life-giving opportunities. Being heralds of hope in a despairing world. Taking radical risks of rescue. Laying down their lives to save another. If life can grow out of the death of one little seed, there is value, meaning and purpose in that death.

Choose life.

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(Published in the Yemeni American News, November, 2017)

3 Things

August 15, 2017August 30, 2017 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 2 Comments

It sounds simple…

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