Of Brokenness and Healing

I originally wrote this post several years ago, but I never got around to posting it. However, the message is still very true.

    One day a few years ago, one of my friends pinned part of the verse, Zephaniah 3:17, on Pinterest. I hadn't really read Zephaniah all that often, so I decided to check the verse out:

The Lord your God is in your midst,
    a mighty one who will save;
he will rejoice over you with gladness;
    he will quiet you by his love;
he will exult over you with loud singing.

    "He will quiet you with His love." That part stuck in my head. "He will quiet you with his love." I can rest in Him, even during the times when I know family is hurting in the States or parents are going through hard times or there is that kid in class who just can't seem to play well with others or that stack of papers that needs grading or there are so many meetings I can't keep track of what I'm supposed to be doing. He will quiet me with His love.

     In Spanish that reads:  "Te renovará con su amor." He will renew you with His love. I thought that was beautiful and something I need to remember. So, after careful consideration, I had "Te renovará con su amor" written on my shoulder.

    That night I went back and read all of Zephaniah 3. I hadn't looked at the whole chapter before, just the verse. I was surprised. Verse 17 comes in the middle of a section all about God's restoration. Verses 19-20 read:

Behold, at that time I will deal
    with all your oppressors.
And I will save the lame
    and gather the outcast,
and I will change their shame into praise
    and renown in all the earth.
At that time I will bring you in,
    at the time when I gather you together;
for I will make you renowned and praised
    among all the peoples of the earth,
when I restore your fortunes
    before your eyes,” says the Lord.

     God is a restorer, fixing the broken and healing the hurting. I was once broken and hurting. Now I see just how much He has healed me. And even when I didn't realize how much He was fixing me and healing me, He was at work. As I  sat reading the chapter, I was completely amazed about HOW MUCH God has worked in me. Yes, there are still scars in my life, but I'm not broken anymore. There is healing in my mighty God, who quiets me with His love. Through all the hard thing in life, He has quieted me, calmed me, carried me. I am quieted by His love.

  




     
   
     

A Few of My Favorite Things: Companies That Do Good

The summer in between my last year of college and my student teaching, my father handed me the book Not for Sale by David Batstone and told me I HAD to read it. And I did. And my heart broke. And I realized just how horrific Modern Slavery is. Reading that book also started me on a journey that has led me to try to support anti-human trafficking however--well, almost however--I could. About a year ago I really began to feel convicted that I could do more, and I really needed to put my money where my mouth has been. So, I've tried to become an ethical consumer and shop companies that do good. These have become just a few of my favorite things. (And in case anyone wonders, this is a list I compiled. I didn't receive anything for this.)

Companies I've tried and love:

1. PACT--organic and ethically sourced cotton basics; also very soft and comfortable. My two favorite pairs of yoga pants come from them.

2. Synergy Organic Clothing--organic and ethically sourced cotton clothing; Some of my favorite pieces in my wardrobe come from here.

3. Naja-- bras, underwear, swimwear--The company employs single mothers, paying them above market wages and also helps with the education costs of their children

4. Rey Swimwear-- ethically made and eco friendly swimwear; also modest for those of us who aren't fans of how we look in itsy-bitsy bikinis :)

5. Oliberte-- fair trade boots and shoes--I just got a pair of boots from here for Christmas, and I love them.

6. MOVMT (The People's Movement)-- footwear-- They stand for a reduction of single use plastic and use recycled plastic in many of their designs. Also, I have sneakers from them that are really comfortable.

7. Naturalium-- I JUST came across this a few weeks ago. I was buying new shampoo and had never heard of this brand and decided to look them up. They are a Spanish company that gives part of their revenue to World Vision Spain. Also, it smells really good. And I can order it as part of my online grocery order and it comes straight to my flat. (Thank you, Rohlik!)

9. Starfish Project-- jewelry made by human trafficking survivors

10. Free and Crowned-- headbands, and definitely a more girly site; 25% of every headband sold is donated to anti-human trafficking

11. Simply Earth-- my new favorite essential oil company; They have monthly or quarterly subscription boxes. My next one is in April. I may be a little excited. 13% of profits donated to fight human-trafficking

12. Leiva's Coffee-- family-owned coffee; A portion of the proceeds are reinvested into their community in Guatemala. It tastes amazing. And I worked with the Leiva family while I was in Guatemala. They are pretty awesome people. :) 

Companies I haven't tried YET:

13. Everlane-- ethically produced clothing; They are very transparent about the costs of production as well as their supply chain. I had been coveting a coat from here, but I just got one at a clothes swap, so I will have to wait a while before trying them out. Also, I have my eye on their day heels.

14. Good Paper-- cards made by sex-trafficking survivors

15. Thistle Farms-- ethically produced bath and body supplies; part of community for survivors of abuse, addictions, trafficking, and prostitution

16. Trades of Hope-- jewelry; provide a fair wage job to women in communities where that might not happen. I have a friend who sells this, and while I haven't bought any (yet), I do like it.

17. Odylique-- organic and ethical skin and hair care and make-up

18. Fair Squared-- fairtrade personal hygiene products

19. Celia Grace-- ethically sourced and eco friendly wedding dresses; also for every dress sold, they supply a school uniform to a girl in need; I'm the girl who has been planning her wedding since she was 8, so this is one of my favorite sites ever. I will wear Celia Grace if I ever get married. :) For now, I just drool over them.

Other clothing companies:

20. Komodo

21. Global Mamas

22. Mata Traders

23. People Tree

24. MUD jeans-- Sustainable jean company that has a program where you can lease jeans and then return them for a new pair; They are on my radar to try. (Also, if you want to know why sustainable fashion is important, I recommend the documentary The True Cost.)

25. Sseko-- sandals made in Uganda

These are just a FEW of the many companies that choose to do good with their companies. If you know of any others, feel free to let me know so I can investigate.

Sometimes We Get Lonely

One thing I have noticed about returning to the US for an extended period of time is how incredibly lonely it is. I'm teaching full-time at the moment, visiting partner churches on weekends, and have spent more time with family than in the past four years combined, so the loneliness is not from lack of people. Rather, the loneliness is much like what many expats feel when they first move overseas. People everywhere, but an astounding lack of people who get us.

I haven't lived in the USA for twelve years. This is the longest stretch I have gone during this time without leaving the nation's borders. I'm the girl armed with the passport and visa (and I don't mean the credit card kind), who has no problem navigating airports and foreign public transit systems, is an expert at packing a suitcase, and has a thirst for adventure. I'm a missionary who strives to be salt and light, and wants the world to know the hope I possess that they so desperately need. I'm the teacher who loves that moment when students get it, wants to share my love of reading and learning, and is completely amazed that I get to share the love of Jesus with my students.

But I'm also the girl who no longer knows her passport country. There are cultural references I don't get, commercials I've never seen, poplar songs I have never heard. In many ways, because my world had been so expanded, I no longer share many of the values Americans (and southerners in my case) hold dear. I don't want the big house (I'd settle for a kitchen big enough for two people to cook in at the same time), the two cars (I utterly despise having to drive), or the white picket fence. I don't understand why people tell me to be safe in Prague, when they live in a country where you can't even go to a movie theater without fear of getting shot. I honestly could care less about guns and hunting and second amendment rights and the only football that interests me is the kind Americans call soccer. International experience causes me to disagree strongly with many about immigration reform and how to treat people who are different than us.

And I have stories that I long to share...but who has the time to listen? And when people do listen, the questions are always about what I miss from America. Very seldom has anyone asked what I miss about Prague. And honestly, I miss so much...I miss my family there, my job, my flatmates, my friends and co-workers, my church, my city...my life. I haven't lived in this county for twelve years. There are not many friends left here.

And I can only imagine that other expats and missionaries feel the same way. All, while those of us who return to the States are glad to see those her (please don't think I'm not thrilled to see you), but sometimes we get lonely and just want someone who gets us.

Salt and Light: Don't Forget the Mission

Don't forget the mission...

Was I starting Bible studies with Czechs or building meaningful relationships with my neighbors and was I fluent in Czech yet...

The questions caught me off guard and then the conversation finished with "Don't forget the mission." In answer to the questions, no, no (that would require seeing my neighbors and we all seem to keep very different schedules), working on it, and I haven't. I haven't forgotten the mission at all.

I remember why I am here every morning as I walk into my classroom. I'm reminded as we meet for devotions or prayer times as a staff and implore God to send us more students. I'm reminded as I've had students talk about how they know their teachers care because we do a job where we don't get paid.

And every time I see the brokenness around me, I have to fight to remind myself the reason. I see the darkness that engulfs this city, hear the statistics of how the Czech Republic is the 3rd worst slave state in Europe. I walk past people shooting heroin on the way to work and witness the man passed out on the tram, an empty wine box at his feet. And my heart breaks again. And again I have to fight to remind myself why I am here.

Because I'm not here to plant churches. As much as I want to fight human trafficking, that is not my primary reason for being here. I'm not in this country to start Bible studies with Czechs or to mentor my neighbors. Does that mean I don't want to be a part of these things? No, these are good things, noble things, honorable and right. But I am not the one God has called for that. (Not to say I would reject the chance to do any of those things if they come up, but they aren't ministries I seek out.)

Saying I'm a missionary to the Czech Republic is not necessarily the best terminology. Perhaps it is better to say I am a missionary IN the Czech Republic.

Because the people group I work with are not Czech. It is also equally right to say they are not Americans or Canadians or Korean or Italian or Polish. They are a crazy mix of cultures...a people group where conversations are effortlessly carried on in a mixture of languages (when I coached middle school volleyball, half of my practice was in Korean because a majority of my team was Korean and they would get so excited about things that they would start talking away...in Korean). They love peanut butter just as much as they love trdelnik or Kimbop or fresh tortillas. They speak with authority on the best airports and airlines and carry on conversations with topics ranging from "when I lived in ______ country" to "when my family was visiting _______ country". They know their way around jet lag better than most adults. They are adaptable...and always, always facing change.

And I'm in this country for THEM. They are Third Culture Kids (TCKs) or Global Nomads, as some prefer to be called. Kids who have spent significant amounts of time outside their passport countries (which is probably not their "home" even if mom and dad call it home). Some of them are multi-ethnic, with parents from one or more countries. Some have spent most of their life in their passport country. Some have only left their passport countries in the past few years. Some have never even lived there at all.

They are incredible and amazing. And I'm here for them. To be a stable person in a very unstable world.

I'm here to be Jesus to them. By the light switch in our staff bathroom, someone posted "Be salt. Be light." That's what I am. Salt and light. I'm here to be the person who is here for my missionary kids--someone who is called specifically for them. To be Jesus to them, while their parents are doing what God has called them to do. And I love being a partner in ministry with them.

But I'm also here to be salt and light for my kids who do not come from families that know Jesus. And I have fallen in love with this role as well. I have had students walk into my room who knew nothing about how much God loves them, and I've gotten to tell them! For the first time. As much as I love the light that comes on when a student understand an academic concept (I am a teacher after all), I love even more when I see the light come on about a spiritual idea. Remembering when one of my students told me as she was leaving, "Don't be sad, Miss Miller. I know now God will be with me at my new school." And I got to be the first one to tell her that.

Salt and light. I remember why I'm here. Salt and light. I'm their salt and light in a busy world, a dark world. I'm here for them. Salt and light. 

I haven't forgotten the mission after all.

Endings and Memories

It's the beginning and ending of the year that always flies by for me. Meanwhile, the time in between manages to drag by slowly. Then, May comes and leaves almost as quickly. Next thing I know I'm hugging my kids one last time, wishing them all a happy summer and saying goodbyes to those who are leaving (or else trying to remain in denial that they are, indeed, leaving).

I read a blog recently (you can read it here: Why Expats Hate June) that does a wonderful job of explaining the dreaded goodbyes. My students say that so much--to family, to friends, to teachers, to classmates. In just this year, my class had to say it to two fellow classmates. But if I focused on the goodbyes, I would never be able to enjoy the good times, the walks around the city, the movie nights, the lunches and dinners spent laughing. Or the amazing times with students. Or the incredible times of worship together. So, while I do recommend reading that blog if you would like to know what my coworkers, students, and I go through every single June, I instead what to savor the memories of good and wonderful times.

Water Fights

"Candy" Awards Voted on by Classmates

Wonderful Dinner Cruises

Beloved Coworkers (and Former Coworker)

"On a good day, enjoy yourself; On a bad day, examine your conscience. God arranges for both kinds of days so that we won’t take anything for granted."

Ecclesiastes 7:14, The Message

Oceans

A song has been running through my mind quite often in past months. And in some ways, it almost seems to be the story that God has been writing in my life over the past three years. Then a friend from college posted another version of it (one I think is now my favorite). There it was again--the idea that this life that I live is not my life, that even on the hardest day (although, to be honest, today was actually quite a wonderful day), there is a reason I am here.

Three Years Ago:

 You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail...

And I will call upon Your name

Through floods, loss, grief, and the hardest of days:

Your grace abounds in deepest waters

Trusting His love and provision:

 My soul will rest in Your embrace

13 Different Nationalities in 6 Years of Teaching:

 Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me

 Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

I am Yours and You are mine 

"Oceans" by Hillsong United

Ten Years

I've been thinking a lot about the past ten years this year. Partly because I teach fourth grade and most of my students are either ten or turning ten. But I think the biggest rest is that this is CISP's tenth year. We have talked a lot about the tenth year. (See my post about that here: What Will You Be Doing in Ten Years?)

And as we've looked back over CISP's past ten years (also known as the entire lifetime of all my kiddos), I can't help but reflect on the past ten years of my life.

In the past ten years I have lived in five different countries on three different continents. I have been a teacher for six of those years. I have climbed the Great Wall of China and the Eiffel Tower (yes I CLIMBED the Eiffel Tower--only one elevator was working the day I was there and the line was ridiculously long), gotten lost in Venice, explored Nazi bunkers, roasted marshmallows over molten lava, and seen the Colosseum. I have survived a volcanic eruption, earthquakes, hurricanes (all three of those in the same weekend), blizzards, and floods. 

And then I look back to ten years ago. Ten years ago I had just finished my first year of college. I have moved outside of the US and survived. I was preparing to help my parents pack to move to Guatemala for their own international adventure.

But I also think of the things I don't want to remember. The loss of a friend. The beeping of hospital machines. The words heard as I stepped off an elevator, "If you want to see him alive, you need to come as soon as possible." A funeral. Watching a grieving mother cry over a casket. An unwanted class reunion next to a grave.

Because ten years ago was also when I told God I hated Him for the first time. Ten years ago was when I spent an entire summer screaming at Him and question WHY? Why did He allow tragedy? And how could He possibly be a God of love? And how could I possibly love a God who allowed that to happen?

But ten years ago was when I also experienced grace after a summer of despair. Ten years ago was when I first really understood how deep, how wide, how high, how far God's love and mercy went. Ten years ago was when I learned that questioning is not bad, but you need to be prepared to accept that sometimes you don't get an answer. Ten years ago I wept as I finally understood what it meant to trust God. And I learned what it is to realize He is in control and working, even when it doesn't look like it. Ten years ago shook me, but it also grew me. And through that will hopefully even further impact others--and not just through my life.

Ten years ago on May 29, 2004,  I also made a decision to become an organ donor.

Of Darkness and Light

The view during Sunrise Service this morning

When I first began to tell people I was moving to Prague, those who had traveled here before began to tell me of it's incredible beauty. And living here for two and a half years, it continues to amaze me with it. As I was standing in Letna Park overlooking the Vltava at sunrise service today, I was again just struck by the beauty of this city that has won my heart. I love Prague.

Yet, this magnificent jewel has so much darkness. It's seen during in the eyes of its people, with looks of hopelessness, loneliness, and despair. It's seen in the sex stores on the corner. It's seen in the nudity and marketing of the human body everywhere. It's seen in the empty cathedrals, functioning now as museums rather than places of worship. It's seen throughout the Czech Republic, in places like Lidice and Terezin, where the evilness of men is so evident.

The other night, the presence of this darkness hit me as I walked through Wenceslas Square. The clubs had opened their doors for the night. Around every ATM there were men crowded, pulling out wads of our smallest bill, 100 kc. I walked past several women propositioning men. And while hearing the mixture of languages I could see clearly that this is not just a Prague problem. This is a world problem. The English, spoken with both American and British accents, the Spanish, German, Italian, and multitude of other languages. The nationalities--European, African, Asian, North and South American. All of this pointed to the darkness not just being here in the Czech Republic, but somewhere much deeper--in the hearts of men.

Again this morning, as my roommates and I walked through the square again, passing people staggering to the metro and down the street, people throwing up on the steps of buildings, people obviously only then going to bed, we could see it. Not the darkness itself. But the symptoms of it. Signs that something is not right, that something is broken and needs fixing.

We kept walking, through Old Town, through the Jewish Quarter, past the oldest synagogue in the city. We crossed the bridge and climbed the many steps up to Letna Park. And at an overlook, we watched as the mostly-risen sun shed its light over this dark, yet beautiful city. And we knew that light had come.

That over 2,000 years ago the world was at its darkest. All hope had seemed lost. Death seemed to have won.

But then something marvelous and glorious happened. The stone rolled away. The tomb was empty. A dead man had been brought back to life. This was no ordinary man, but Immanuel. The Lamb who was slain for our sins rose again.

And as we worshiped with my church this morning, looking out over the city below us, I was reminded once more of why I am here. It may be a city full of darkness. But light has come. I'm here to share that light. Because He is risen. He is risen indeed.

That Team I'm Cheering For Sunday

Normally if you asked my about my favorite football team, I would probably stare at you blankly, give some answer about being bribed with amazing sugar cookies to cheer for the Green Bay Packers, or give you a facetious answer that I go for FC Barcelona (iVisca Barca!).

This year, however, my answer is slightly different (and I'm actually tempted to watch the Super Bowl, albeit, not tempted enough to actually to stay up and watch it. It will be the middle of the night here, after all.) Why do I care, you ask? This year one of the teams is much more then a team. It represents so many things I love.

It represents summer vacations, fish and chips from Ivers (and feeding the seagulls there), and salt water taffy. It represents crabs (that may have been dropped into my hand by my uncle) and sea glass. It represent Alki Beach, the Space Needle, and ferries. It represents cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and family reunions. It represents the destination of cross-country road trips, flights, and train trips. It represents rain and the smell of the sea. It represents the place my father went to college and the place where my parents were engaged. It represents my favorite city in the USA.

Why, yes, I'm cheering for the Seahawks. It's my family's team. Proud to show my Seattle roots this weekend.

Veselé Vánoce

I love Prague at Christmas. All the decorations and the lights and the Christmas markets. Not to mention the roasted almonds covered in sugar.

But what I hate about Prague at Christmas is the darkness. The shortest day of the year falls in December. The days leading up to it are quite depressing. There's nothing quite like getting up for work while it's dark, making your way to school while it's dark, and watching the street lights finally turn off from inside your classroom as you prepare for the day. Only, to then watch the sun set as your get ready for the next day and walk home from school in the dark. Only to realize that it's only 5 pm, and you have a whole night of darkness ahead of you. And when there is daylight, that doesn't necessarily mean there will be sun. Often, the skies are cloudy and gray. No vitamin D here. It's dark, gray, and depressing.

This year for our Christmas concert, my fourth graders memorized several of the verses prophesying about the birth of Christ. Every morning for about a month before hand, we would practice the verses. Every morning for that month leading up to the shortest days of the year, I heard my children proclaiming:

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned…For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.

(Isaiah 9:2, 6-7 NIV)

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light." No matter how dark it gets here, the light of the world has come. Even though the days may be short and the dark of night be long, the Light has dawned. That baby in a manger. Who is no longer a baby in a manger. That man on a cross, dead in a grave, is dead no more. The Light has dawned and He lives still. And that once more reminds me why I'm here, to show the Light to those around me who are still walking in darkness. So while I hate the darkness, I have also grown in a small way fond of it, as it serves as a reminder to me of the spiritual darkness of the country in which I live.

So, Merry Christmas. Veselé Vánoce. And remember that the Light has come.