The Fourth Rock

October 7, 2022October 8, 2022 ~ 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 4^th Rock:

We left three Colorado Rocks in each of the countries we traversed. The 4^th 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

April 11, 2022April 14, 2022 ~ 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.

Just Come

December 24, 2020December 28, 2020 ~ 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.

Corona 2020 #3: Rhythms of Quarantine

April 3, 2020April 7, 2020 ~ Georgia Coats ~ Leave a comment

Sunday, March 29: In harmony with my heart

Virtual church at 11-ish. Pilates and worship. Coffee with my Sweet. I’m grateful for his enthusiasm in making my perfect cup. I have been working on the right lyrics that are in harmony with my heart. Simon and Garfunkel always have space in my struggles. But they must be interspersed with strength of the human spirit, and the hope of worship. My heart is tender towards key words: shelter, isolation, hidden, breath…

Walking makes me feel better, and alone. The city is quiet and desolate with pockets of families huddled together.

We are defined by our safe people and everyone else. Who are the people bio-connected to each other? What about those who live alone? Who are their bio-connected “we”?

Following news out of Detroit. Things are exponentially worse. The Henry Ford hospital is where my hematologist of 15 years lives. My babies were born there. It is a state of emergency.

Michigan seems like a dream to me now… I’ve come to look for America… Michigan feels like a dream to me, too, Simon & Garfunkel.

The Value of Closure

I am struggling with closure. Some things have ended abruptly and I find they wreck me more emotionally than they would at another time. My resilience is thin. With tears, it’s best to sleep on it. If my resilience is thin, others’ is too. God, help me to see as you see.

Strong for my people. Rest. Prayer. I am ready to take a small courageous step towards healthy closure in uncertainty. Courage is fear prayed up. Yup.

Monday, March 30: It’s okay not to be okay

Ella is in tears. She feels socially limited in the middle of her brother and sister. She has done everything we have thought to do at home by lunchtime. Aimlessness brings sadness.

She needs her middle school peeps. I tell her it’s okay to cry. It’s okay not to be okay.

Magic in the little things—a fixed bike, fresh berries and a can of whipped cream. Zoe and Ella set off on a park adventure of their own. Then we make lentil soup. I see her perk up just a little.

It’s okay not to be okay.

Jamin’s new tetherball arrives from Amazon. Steve and Jamin head to his school to hook it up to the pole there. Jamin is that 5^th grader—the one who has prayed for school to end since it started. He is in a happy place.

My walks get longer and more emotional as I listen through my varied lyrics. I am weak. I am strong. It feels like winter and loneliness. I rise up. I have breath. I shelter in with people I love dearly.

It helps to have purpose and set baby goals…

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). I inadvertently photobombed their cute family pic—at a distance.

Seeing their faces made my heart happy. 😊

I walk in the rain and the sunshine. I am oscillating. Laughing. Crying. Purposefulness. Aimlessness. Weight of the world. Isolation. Safety. And Fear.

Everyone check in with someone, ok?

Celebrating my small mom victories. My kids seem more settled. Cake pops made. Tetherball played. Lentil soup is perfectly seasoned comfort food—reminiscent 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 you’re low. NeedtoBreathe

I hug my people. I have people to touch and kiss. We pray together anticipating the new day. The new school schedule. A plan. A purpose. We pray that summer camp won’t be canceled.

Tuesday, March 31: Collecting scattered thoughts

Everyone sets an alarm. Online school is starting, and we have family implementation plans in place. Ella is chattery about her teachers and friends. Her eyes light up. Jamin is moaning but following the plan. Zoe persists with vigor in all her endeavors. Steve’s virtual work continues per usual. 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. Interruptions are frequent. Flexibility of this new norm.

Clarity of thought. Processing negative emotions in healthy ways. Moving forward.

Deep breath. I will turn on the news.

Physical goals: Engage my core muscles more often—to that end, wear less leggings and more regular pants. Walk a little further. 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.

Closure…find closure where you can on even the little things, since so many things ended or were put on pause so abruptly.

Zoe and I enjoy the show: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist. Episode 8—Zoey’s Extraordinary Glitch—was so embarrassingly awkward. The main character can’t stop herself from bursting out in song to express her deep, undealt with emotions.

I courageously show up for my meeting to find closure, and I cry through the second half of it. I guess I’m still not ok and it’s going to come out somewhere—like Zoey does with song and dance in the show, I do with tears. Closure on this one thing feels good and right and satisfying. But I’m still crying. Awkward, but unapologetic. Express gratitude. Everyone’s resilience is thin. It’s okay not to be okay.

Rollerblading with my girls is a sweet time on a beautiful day. Normal, not normal. Strange, not strange. No one is out. Everyone is distant on a college campus in spring. I feel simultaneously content and overwhelmed. We go about our days distancing, while others can’t breathe. And others die. How does closure come for loved ones who experience loss?

At the end of the day I’m both relieved and bummed that there were no innovative April Fool’s jokes going on at our house. 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. Grateful for the closure I found yesterday. Like the strategy for debt snowball—knocking out smaller debts first.

Moving forward.

It’s okay not to be okay. But it’s 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. In for 3, out for 4.

🎶 And I’ll rise up…

I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
For you… 🎶

Innovation, momentum, problem-solving and resilience—in short supply. 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.

It’s cold today. There is no mustering of motivation to run the track. 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… 😭💕🏝

🎶 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 cries 🎶

Islands are surrounded by salt water… you would never know if they were crying.

Overwhelmed and grateful. I am definitely not an island.

Corona 2020 #2: Deep Breath

April 3, 2020April 5, 2020 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 1 Comment

Sunday, March 22: Small successes make us stronger

Virtual church in our home—that’s a good family rhythm. Coffee with my Sweet. Pilates during worship.

Deep breath. The sun is shining. We know how to rally as a family. We’ve done that before.

I learned in grad school that when things get really challenging, it helps to take on doable physical challenges. Before graduation, I was standing on my head for a solid 3 minutes or more. Today I take on my ripstick—I haven’t done that since our move to Colorado in 2018. I went further on the Poudre trail than I have ever gone on my ripstick.

I can do this. All of this.

Drive-ins—a social distancing spring break treat post family physical activity. Sonic is Mommy’s rare and spontaneously fun fried treat. Desperately wishing I could wash my hands, the Sonic manager offers us disinfectant wipes at our window. It’s the best she could do. And I was thankful.

Monday, March 23: Empathy and grief set in

Emotions are so mixed up. I can alternate tears and laughter without taking a breath. I think the complexity of emotion keeps me going. Empathy is a part of me. So is shared laughter. I can’t shut out the hurt of the world. I have to find a way in it.

Grief sets in as social media pours out the news of loved ones’ sick loved ones. There are people who can’t breathe. I feel pressure around my own lungs. Or is it my heart?

I got this song stuck in my prayers…

🎶 You give life, You are love
You bring light to the darkness
You give hope, You restore
Every heart that is broken
Great are You, Lord

It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
We pour out our praise
It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise to You…

And all the earth will shout Your praise
Our hearts will cry, these bones will sing

Great are You, Lord 🎶

Zoe bakes her first berry pie. Yum. She has been painting and creating and plotting a socially distant picnic with a neighbor friend. She makes beautiful things. She makes me smile… with teary eyes. She is filled with purpose and plans and projects.

Wednesday, March 25: To be seen and heard

I have a regularly scheduled virtual meeting with my colleague. She hears exhaustion in my voice and heartache in my rhythm. I needed her to say that I didn’t seem ok. Someone noticed. Someone said something. I try to hold back immediate tears. I’ll save them for later. My tear bank is robust. I am tired. I am overwhelmed.

Thursday, March 26: The good, the bad, and the garbanzo beans

A walk with a friend. I bring her chickpeas and pass them at a safe distance. Canned goods are hard to come by at the grocery store and she is a garbanzo lover like myself. It feels good to do a little good. Colorado is in full shelter in place mode now. Stores close earlier. People might start to panic.

I think I am among the immunocompromised. I google articles about leukemia patients, those on immunotherapies in relation to Covid-19. I should be extra cautious.

Speaking of Covid-19… I read a comment comparing the “Covid 19” to the “Freshman 15!” Hard to curb the quarantine baking spree. I love that there are so many things to laugh together about.

Steve and I have an important virtual work meeting. The meeting delivered bad news. Not really anything to do with pandemic, just regular life bad news. It hits hard. It feels like rejection. Emotions are already at the surface and reserves of faith and grace and strength and resilience have already been reallocated.

Sprycel—my leukemia miracle med—is delivered as usual. Check. The UPS man doesn’t ask me to sign for this pricy parcel. He just leaves it and waves.

I slip out for a run on the track as I pour out my heart in my prayer. My regular running playlist doesn’t seem fitting anymore.

Why is motivation so hard?

Goal setting. That’s my specialty. First, identify barriers: It’s hard to get to goals when you’re in the midst of grief. Mourning and gratitude are both necessary. But if you haven’t mourned, it’s hard to move forward.

Steve and I zoom in with our community group. Thursday night is our regularly scheduled hangout time—part of our familiar chorus.

I’m still not okay.

News of people sick, dying, or singing out their windows is global.

Urgency and exhaustion in the voices of healthcare professionals.

More emails regarding upcoming online school than I can process.

Loved ones have sick ones.

I worry for the most vulnerable, like my resettled refugee friends and pregnant mom friends.

I worry for my healthcare provider friends.

I am in tears for a hurting world.

Check in with your inner self. Practice heart presence. Breathe…. Oh yeah.

Steve gets a stern and caring reminder from our doctor friend to be extra cautious with his immunocompromised wife. Clarity. Caution. Heartfelt concern.

Friday, March 27: Emotional backlog

Things have to change. My heart is being pressed in on all sides. Everyone is caring about something else. I feel isolated with the whole world. I am.

So much has halted. So much to process. An emotional backlog. So many people going through something and the same things. Momentum is gone in most of life’s places.

Deep breath.

I decide to start collecting the songs I need for this new rhythm of life.

I choose carefully how often I watch the news. Today there is a healthy flow of tears watching a video montage of communities rising up and joining together.

🎶 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
And I’ll rise up
High like the waves
I’ll rise up
In spite of the ache
I’ll rise up
And I’ll do it a thousand times again
For you… 🎶

Thank you, Andra Day. Put that one on the playlist.

Saturday, March 28: Naming negative emotions

I cross out lots of things on my calendar that didn’t happen and that won’t happen. Good thing I write in pencil. Saturday is Ella’s choice for special breakfast. A rich cup of coffee with my Sweet. Pilates and prayers. My whole body feels heavy.

I have dealt with difficult things before. I cry. I walk. I sleep. I pray. I listen—to truth, to hope, to sadness. To divine whispers.

It’s helpful to just be present with negative emotions… 😕♥️
• grief—of losses big and small
• guilt—that we should be doing more, less, something else
• fear—of things we can’t control
• disappointment—of unfulfilled expectations
• discouragement—too many overwhelming things to take in at once
• sadness…
• madness…
•
🤲🏼👣

Tomorrows have no structure. We are oscillating between aimlessness and creativity’s blank page. Setting goals seems like such an uphill journey.

Corona 2020 #1: Cancellations & Celebrations

April 3, 2020April 3, 2020 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 2 Comments

Friday, March 13: Seismic shifts

What a strange and beautiful day. I left early on a birthday hike to celebrate my friend’s 40^thbirthday. We had the Twin Sisters trail to ourselves as we hiked through mounds of freshly fallen snow. I shared my Middle Eastern date cookies with her as a birthday treat. I had just brought them back from Michigan three days earlier. As we hiked, we processed the strange potential things that might happen, and we pondered the impact of recent social encounters and future plans.

Sharing cookies… that feels thoughtful and delightful and celebratory.

It was my kids’ last day of school before spring break. I knew I would arrive home post-hike to shifting sands.

And then the onslaught of virtual communication rushed in—every entity I am involved with is sending out emails of closure and postponement.

My kids dance around the living room celebrating the news of a second week of spring break, a.k.a., enrichment week, as the world is shutting down.

Saturday, March 14: Queen of flexibility

In normal life, I work 4 very fulfilling, part-time jobs—mainly, nonprofits, self-employment, and contract work. I am queen of finding rhythm with flexibility and faith through many changing seasons of my various jobs. And half my work is already virtual.

I got this.

Bring on change.

Bring on the unknown.

Bring on kids at home and the anticipation of spring.

Let’s keep dancing around the living room and watch as many movies as we can think of, and eat large bowls of white cheddar popcorn.

Sunday, March 15: Clean hands and pure hearts

This is ominously exciting. The CDC cancelled church gatherings of 150 or more, but our small community group is getting together to watch it virtually and enjoy Sunday brunch together. In the celebration of slowing down the pace of life and being together, there is a growing sense of urgency for quarantining. Some have opted out of our physical gathering.

Keep your hands clean and move to toe touches and elbow taps.

🎶 Give us clean hands, give us pure hearts
Let us not lift our souls to another

O God let us be a generation that seeks
That seeks your face O God of Jacob

O God let us be a generation that seeks
That seeks your face O God of Jacob 🎶

I timed it… this chorus is a solid 30 seconds of prayer AND proper hand washing.

I love finding hope, meaningful connection, and laughter in challenging situations.

Monday, March 16: Plans proceed but toilet paper is scarce

We have summer camp coming up in July. Kids need their wellness checkups. It’s going to be a highly productive spring break. I got two out of three kids went in the health clinic for physicals and vaccinations. People wore masks and signs were posted about being cautious.

Toilet paper is a weird crisis. We forgot to pick up our usual stash at Sam’s Club last month. Oops! I feel more and more compelled to join the bandwagon of fear and scarcity. Don’t panic… we’ll find some.

In the restroom at the local medical center for my kid’s wellness checkup…

Experiencing a new kind of temptation 😳🧻🧻

Tuesday, March 17: A cold coming on

Ella’s wellness checkup is cancelled. That seems to be the new rhythm. Most things left on the calendar are also being cleared. I feel a cold coming on and my mind trails to all the places I’ve been and the people I’ve touched. I start to rethink some of our spring break interactions… and sharing date cookies.

Wednesday, March 18: Rhythm in chaos

When the winds of change disrupt normal life, I find it helpful to hold on to a familiar chorus—a loose framework of routine and rhythm. I enjoy a morning cup of coffee with my Sweet. I run the empty track at the middle school. I do regular bouts of Pilates and prayers.

My throat is sore and I dig out the thermometer. No fever. All three times.

My mom calls. She’s worried about our lack of toilet paper. My dad unpacks meat from his freezer and finds our favorite kind of Greek cheese at the restaurant depot. We arrange a socially distant walk at a park halfway between our cities. No hugs. No kisses. Just a transfer of food items and a lovely stroll. The sun is in full shine, but road signs are flashing to brace for an impending winter storm.

Still no fever. I would feel horrible if I were the one to compromise my parents’ health in their late 70s.

Thursday and Friday are cold and dark and snowy. No place to go. Every cough makes me a little nervous. Still no fever. Ella coughs and sniffles. No fever.

Saturday, March 21: Keep baking, keep running, keep dancing

The week went by so quickly. It wasn’t much of a spring break—except for excessive movie watching and creative baking and spontaneous dance parties. Keeping our rhythm–Saturday pancakes. The dog park is perfect for social distancing. Another run on the middle school track while the gym is closed and the weather is decent.

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.

Smiling Eyes and New Perspectives

November 10, 2018November 10, 2018 ~ Georgia Coats ~ Leave a comment

My sweet friend… she smiles with her eyes and covers her face, while I flash my grin and cover my eyes.

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I had the privilege of being the first American/non-Muslim to invite this dear Muslim woman from the Gulf into my home recently. Amidst chasing her 1 year old, we talked for hours about faith, dreams, cancer, raising kids, and the niqab–the face-covering she wears in public. With her gentle demeanor, she explained the courage it takes to wear the niqab, and the assumptions people automatically have.

One time when she was in the park with her kids, a group of young students were fearful, calling her a zombie. She bravely asked their teacher if she could talk to the students. With no men present, she lifted the niqab and introduced herself.

I felt so blessed by her heart and willingness to cross barriers to share a sliver of her life with me❣️

When we cross barriers and get to know people who are different from us, it broadens our perspectives and enriches our lives .

One perspective on head coverings, with a hip hop feminism flare is this song:

Hijabi

by Mona Haydar. It provides a young Muslim woman’s perspective on her hijab (head covering) in English.

🎶All around the world
Love women every shading
Be so liberated…
I still wrap my hijab
Wrap my hijab
Wrap my hijab
Wrap, wrap my hijab 🎶

I love how culturally situated songs give us a perspective, and a beat, we may not have otherwise considered.

And here are some other helpful definitions of Islamic headwear.

Así Soy Yo: A verb of Identity

November 10, 2018November 10, 2018 ~ Georgia Coats ~ 1 Comment

My three kids have been learning Arabic in school for the past 4-9 years. But we recently moved and switched schools, and so they they no longer have such easy access to Arabic classes. So, because I’m a master at teaching small group Spanish classes…

We had our first Saturday morning family Spanish class:

Macro level analysis of a familiar text: Juan 14:6, a Bible verse that they have previously memorized in English. We were looking at three ways Jesus identifies himself, as the Way (el camino), the Truth (la verdad), and the Life (la vida).
Micro level grammar: subject pronouns and identity verb in the first person “Yo soy”

To finish off our lesson over pancakes, we listened to one of my favorite Spanish pop songs by the Colombian band Bomba Estéreo

🎶 SOY YO …
TRANSLATION: I’m me.

I fell , I got up…
I failed, I found myself,
I lived and I learned…
The harder you get hit, the deeper the beat, yeah

MESSAGE: Be who you are no matter what others may think. 🤓

They lyrics are too fast for my very beginning Spanish students, but the chorus is clear and repetitive.

Y no te preocupes si no te aprueban

cuando te critiquen tu solo di:

Soy yo

Soy yo… soy soy soy

Soy yo… yo yo yo

Así soy yo

That’s how we roll Saturday morning at our house. Because así soy yo–that’s how I am.

(It also helps that I plan on bribing them with churros.)

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?