Joy, part 2

Joy. It's something I've really struggled and grappled with lately. I've been able to pinpoint the reason(s) for my joylessness lately as I've prayed, thought and cried out the Lord for help. There are two reasons which are victims of each other. The first is teaching and the second is not being able to participate in ministry as much as I'd like to. 

Teaching is not something I enjoy or do well. It exhausts me and leaves me with no energy for anything. Lack of ministry bothers me in ways I never realized it would because I feel like that's where my gifts lie- serving behind the scenes to help others. As of right now I'm so consumed with lesson planning and prepping ESL classes for 1st-3rd grade (and developing the curriculum to go along with all of that) that I have no time to do anything else. And because I don't have time to do anything else, especially in the ministry and hobby area, my life feels like it's nothing but school, school, school, which leaves me with no joy, exhaustion and stress. Not exactly a cocktail for positivity. 

Sister two made an observation in an email recently that boiled down to this: "I don't understand your decision to stay in a country you seem to have a love/hate relationship with and continue to work in a profession you clearly hate." It's a very legitimate observation but there's a hiccup. I actually really like Slovakia. In fact, I love it. I love living here, love getting to know the people. I love being able to be an independent woman functioning in another country and culture. That doesn't mean there aren't moments of pure frustration or confusion or that I don't have days where "I'd rather be somewhere else," because there is all that. But the positive points far outweigh the negative ones. As for the profession, well, yes, that part's true. But, as I told the roommate the other night as we walked home from school, it's taken me a while to really figure out my gifts, the way I function as a person and how to best utilize that as a missionary. I'm still figuring this part out and I've been doing it by trying different things (that have and have not worked) and learning along the way. I don't believe it makes me any less of a person or missionary or spiritual to not have all the answers yet, or know exactly how I minister or how I fit into the scheme of ministry in Slovakia. It's a work in progress that I'm slowly starting to get figured out, but it's still very much a work in progress. But all that's another blog post for another day. Right now I'll get back to the whole no-joy-in-my-life thing. 

As I said I've been struggling with the whole teaching thing and not being able to be involved in anything else. I have no time to read, no time to bake (this is something I LOVE to do, as I'm sure you've picked up on, and I especially love baking for other people), no time to spend quality time at youth group and build stronger relationships there, and no freedom to drop everything at the last minute to do things when people call and want to do something. The one thing I do consistently, besides go to work every day, is babysit every Tuesday night for a couple at my church who have a small group in their home. I love that I am able to do this one very simple thing that I hope helps them out. Even though I'm always so tired and watching their son can be even more exhausting (let's just say he's a very busy two-year-old), I am so grateful for this opportunity to minister within my church. 

This past weekend the Lord truly renewed my strength and joy in ways I would never have imagined, and I almost didn't see it except it was frequent, consistent and the Spirit prompted me to take pause and think about what was happening. 

Friday afternoon I was asked by a colleague to come speak to and give my testimony to the small group she leads on Wednesday nights. She said she thought of me because I'm American living in Slovakia and it would be special for her girls. I will be going this Wednesday, which I'm excited about because it will give me a chance to get to know my colleague better as well. 

Saturday I spent the day with an American-Slovak family who just moved back to Slovakia after being in the States for the last six years to celebrate Thanksgiving. It was great because I was able to play with their kids, get to know them better, enjoy some really good food, and get to know the American missionary who lives across the street from the roommie and I (he's here working with a program called Fusion, which is building relationships with students through music). It was just fun to have a day where I didn't have to think about school, was able to bake the desserts, and just be me, be a missionary, be an American, be a Star Wars Jedi, be a support system to the children of this family. It was marvelous.

Sunday I went to church and before I could take my coat off was cornered by one of the youth asking me if I wanted to join her and others to sing for the Christmas service. Um, yes, Yes, YES! Then I sat through a really wonderful worship service and understood way more than I thought I would. And then the big banana happened: after church I was able to talk to my principal (who goes to my church) about the struggles I am having with school and teaching, and the stress and pressure I feel about everything and my struggles with joy and lack of ministry. And she, in her God-given wisdom, looked at me and said these words: "Emily, don't think about teaching. Take that word away from your job description. Forget lesson planning. Forget what the kids need to learn, what they need to know, just talk to them. Just play with them. You have great games. Just spend time with them, love them." I was floored and slightly giddy all at the same time. And then she said, "Oh, I talked to [another teacher] and we thought it would be fun if we could have a cooking class sometime with you as the lecture who teaches us how to make the things you do. Would you be interested in something like that?" I think I started dancing in my head as I enthusiastically said I would love to do something like that. Basically, the principal listened, loved, encouraged, gave me freedom and then appealed to my interests in some of the most helpful ways she'll probably never know this side of heaven. 

The Lord continued to work in wonderful and mysterious ways even this morning. I came to school and received an email from another woman at my church asking me if I'd like to join her, her husband and infant for Christmas. She also asked about maybe me doing some cooking lessons for her in Sliač, where she lives, and possibly her helping me with my Slovak. I was still processing that email (in a very good way) when another mom at the school (my Slovak tutor, actually) approached me and asked if I would be available to babysit her kids Thursday night since she and her husband have to go out of town so they'd give me their car to get everyone home after school and then I'd spend the night with them and get them all back to school in the morning. Well, yeah, of course I'll do that! 

I'm thankful for those in my church and at the school who love me and care enough about me pray for me, invite me to speak in their small groups, extend an invitation for Christmas, take me under their wing, take an interest in my interests, to trust me enough with watching their children and driving their car, to open their home to me because they know better than I do that I need fellowship with the body of Christ (I will admit, I probably am too independent for my own good). I'm thankful for the opportunity I had yesterday to be open and honest with my principal about how I'm really doing and what I'm really struggling with. I'm thankful for these opportunities to serve others (babysitting, maybe helping someone learn how to bake, just playing with kids instead of having to teach-teach them), which is how I serve best. I don't do well in up front and center leadership positions, I don't do well in situations where I have to come up with all the ideas myself and I don't do well in situations where I'm given an idea and expected to produce something out of it (I tend to want to know exactly what the person expects out of the project, what he wants it to look like, sound like, feel like, be like, and what his vision is for it because, well, I'm a people pleaser and I don't like disappointing people or getting things wrong; it's a curse more often than not). However, if you need a child looked after, a diaper changed, a meal cooked, a floor swept, a toilet cleaned, a song sung, an errand run, a listening ear, a crash course on where things are or how to get around, quietly observe and size up a completely chaotic/disorganized situation and take charge if no one else is, or help elsewhere that involves being able to be "invisible" and still serve, then I'm all yours. 

As we enter into the Advent season I do have so much to be thankful for, so much to be joyful about and so much to celebrate. I'm so thankful God continues to work in and through my life as He in his mercy hears my prayers and continues to hold me in His hands.

Joy (or lack thereof), part 1

This post will be rather long, so it will be in two parts. I thought I'd be very Slovak by starting this post off with the weather in order to catch you up with what's going on personally with me. You have been forewarned, this post will be long and if the title is any indication, it won't be a light read. [Houston, all systems are a "go" for the launch of the novel.]

Winter has arrived (although it felt like a typical Texas winter outside today- sunshine and warmth amid the I'm-trying-to-be-cold temperatures) and the last of the leaves are falling off the trees. My morning runs have been a mixture of "Oh, this is great- the perfect mix of cold and sun!" to "Oh my word, I can't feel my limbs, fingers, feet or toes and I'm double and triple layered!" Red noses and gloved hands are as common a sight as the 100 degree heat is a guarantee during a Texas summer. The smells of leaves burning in backyards outside and wood burning in the fireplace inside are abundant, and people walk around as bundled as possible (honestly, sometimes I think the children look more like the abominable snowman or a marshmallow than they do children they have so many layers on) and a constant trail of breath can be seen swirling around people's heads as they briskly go about their lives. I love this time of year as it brings a beautiful and enchanting dynamic I was never truly intimate with growing up in flat and hotter-n-hades hot North Texas.

I love being back in Bystrica. It's familiar. It's home away from home. It's got great running routes. I love that I can walk everywhere but at the same time the bus is extremely accessible when I need it. I love that I'm able to be back at my church in Bystrica, reconnecting with students and adults I met back in 2006 and build friendships with new faces. I love where I live. I am enjoying Narnia. My colleagues are all fun and fabulous in their own right. I don't dread seeing the students. I love the principal (she's sort of like my adopted mentor and "spiritual Slovak mom" who is full of love, patience and compassion in ways that always astound me) and I really like the founders of the school who were responsible for hiring me.

I have so much to be thankful for- people who love me, who pray for me; a job; a government that allows foreigners to get work visas so they can work even when its own citizens aren't finding jobs; the freedom to worship when and where I choose; the opportunity to be in a different culture and get to know it and the people better; the opportunity to travel around should I so choose and see other places and sights. The support and love of my family who have never once said, "You've been gone long enough; it's time to come home now," but respect how the Lord's been leading me to stay in Slovakia and have been supportive of the decisions I've made even if they might have their strong doubts and concerns.

BUT... there's always a but, isn't there?! At the same time I don't exactly have joy. I'm happy, thankful, grateful, hopeful, but not joyful. Joy is something I've really been grappling with lately, mostly internally and privately with the eventual repression until I can't take it anymore as that's how I operate mostly. (I'm not saying this is a good way of doing things, I'm just saying it seems to be how I'm becoming as I get older.) As I've grappled and thought and prayed, I've been trying to figure out WHY I feel joyless. Thankfully there's been no depression to accompany the lack of joy. (Depression is its own form of hell I'd rather not revisit so soon after coming out of it.) Anyway, I finally pinpointed the source of my joylessness: teaching. It was so simple and right there in front of me the whole time, but I am so quickly being crushed by it that I couldn't see clearly. (Sort of like a really thick fog. You know there's something in front of you, but you just can't tell what or where.) Now before conclusion jumping begins (which it's probably too late for that), I don't hate the school.

I am not a teacher. It's not my gift. I'm not trained in it. It's not something I do well or am any good at doing. It's not something I enjoy. It's a form of stress for me, honestly. I hate the prepping. I hate the lesson planning. I hate spending countless hours online trying to find games that relate to the grammar being taught in the classroom. (Do you know how hard it is to find ESL grammar games for 1st and 2nd year students who hardly speak a word of English other than "Hello" and "Goodbye" and "My name is..."? It's hard, trust me.) I hate the take home work that's usually involved. I hate dealing with the parents when they complain about Susie getting in trouble for not listening in class and that's it's wrong to make them do anything after a long day of school (yeah, heaven forbid a student actually have to do WORK to learn something!). I hate being responsible for making sure that children are learning the information they need to function as they progress to the older grades. And added to that is the fact that one person tells me, "Oh, you're just here to play games with the children," and another person says, "The students need to know x, y and z because they have a big test at the end of the month," while another person says, "Have you taught them this, this or this yet? They don't seem to be getting it." GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! There are days when I'd rather curl up in a fetal position just rocking back and forth in a corner with eyes glazed over than have to face the music of teaching. But what I think I hate  even more than the teaching is that I'm so consumed by lesson planning and preparing, I have no time to do anything else. No ministry, no relationship building, no having people over for dinner or tea, nothing. And it really bothers me. More than I thought it would.

I've always been involved in some sort of ministry position since I came to Slovakia. And somehow I managed to balance everything. Even last year when I taught crazy hours and was traveling back and forth between Zavadka and Bystrica throughout the week, I still somehow managed to have time to work with the youth, help lead worship, help with kids klub, attend bible study, etc. But right now? Zilch. Nada. Nič. Nothing. And I think that's what bothers me the most. I miss ministering. I know Narnia is a "mission" school and it's a way to love and nurture children who don't necessarily come from Christian homes, but I so often forget that as I attempt to do something I entirely hate and that exhausts me. I often think, in my more lucid moments, "How in the world do the teachers here have so much energy to teach and still love these kids? And what is wrong with me that I just want to yell at the students all the time when all they're doing is being children who need love just as much as the next person?" And it's because they, my colleagues and fellow teachers, love what they do, went to school to be educators and they thrive off of it and have balance in their life. Me, not so much.

I've been doing a lot of praying, surrendering and crying out to the Lord lately. And this weekend, when I took the time to really listen and take heed of what was happening around me, I realized the Lord is beginning to answer my prayers in ways I never thought or imagined.
[For more on this subject, if you've gotten this far, feel free to check out Joy, part 2, which is a much lighter read but still long.]

Thanksgiving a la Slovak Style

Thanksgiving isn't my favorite holiday. I can take it or leave it, honestly. I wasn't planning on celebrating this year and it didn't bother me or cause me to lose much sleep. However, I was invited to spend the day with an American-Slovak family (the husband is American, the wife is Slovak and their children go to Narnia) so I accepted the invitation and in retrospect I'm really glad I went. It was a totally fun and relaxed atmosphere and it was nice being able to talk to other missionaries about life, theology, support raising, cultural/language learning struggles, visas and foreign police, and funny stories from "back home."

Elisabeth, the nine-year-old daughter of the family with whom I spent the day, was looking at my earrings, turquoise dangles, at one point in the evening and said, "Your earrings remind me of my grandmother." I thought this was flattering as they remind me of my grandmother too, who loves turquoise, and was about to tell Elisabeth this when she follows up with, "She always has weird holiday earrings too." It was both hilarious and confusing to me (the earrings are in no way, shape or form "holiday-themed" or "weird," but out of the mouths of babes, right?). The roommate, who was sitting next to me, and I bust out laughing. The mother of the daughter heard this conversation and looked like she wanted to crawl into a corner and die right then and there.

Watch for this girl- you never know when you'll need to use your music stand as a weapon!

Somehow, this is how I spent most of the evening. 

Max and I love having Light Saber duels in the halls at school. I've lost more limbs and guts this way!

Gluten-free chocolate mouse (it's as delectable as it looks!)

Josh, another American missionary living in Bystrica, playing Blokus with Max. 

Thanksgiving isn't complete without at least ONE light saber duel...

 ... Being tied up... (take notice of the "weird holiday earrings")

... Or being held up at gun point after being released from the clutches of the ropes!

Or tying up Simba, for that matter. 

Glutenous apple pie (I have no idea how it tasted as I can't eat it)

Happy Turkey Day!

Happy Thanksgiving, all of you who will be celebrating today. I won't celebrate until Saturday, and even then it's only because there's a Slovak (wife)-American (husband) family who just moved back to SK after being away for six years. While I'm rather disappointed I will not be eating Tacos this year (which I heard my family back in Texas won't be either, which is just committing all sorts of blasphemies and sins in my opinion!), I guess I will take comfort in a gluten-free apple pie and possibly a gluten-free chocolate pie since I can't really eat much of anything else.

Anyway, I must go take lovely darlings to lunch, but before I go, I want to leave you with this thought for this day: If you were a Zebra, would you be black with white stripes, or white with black stripes?

Have a marvelous day of over eating, holiday greetings and Football!

From the Mind of a Nine-Year-Old

My nephew drew this picture recently.

Every time I look at it I think of Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas, which is a great film with a fabulous soundtrack (Danny Elfman is a genius, I swear). Maybe it's my fascination with cemeteries and All Souls Day, but I think this picture is absolutely fantastic. I love the whole concept of it- the small (but adorable!) skeleton, grinning pumpkin, the ghost swirling around above the tree, the darkness of the sky and the somberness of the cemetery. I have no idea where my nephew came up with the idea for this picture, but I love it and am thoroughly enjoying being able to admire it on a daily basis. Thanks, R!

The Pie, in Pictures

Pie, in Words

It's the holiday season... at least in the States. But with it being frigidly cold outside (seriously, how many layers do I need to wear before I don't completely freeze after walking outside!? And what's happened to me that all of a sudden I'm just cold all the time!), my taste buds have begun to crave the tantalizing zing of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and ginger. But what's a girl to do when she can't drink coffee (I like to add cinnamon and ginger to my coffee), can't drink tea and can't eat sugar. (Last time I checked there wasn't a recipe for cinnamon broccoli stir-fry or mashed ginger zucchini... although, I'm sure someone somewhere could start experimenting with those flavors and somehow make them work, but that someone is most likely not me.)

Anyway, pie. I really want pie. I don't even really like pie. But I guess because it's something that I don't see in Slovakia (they don't make pie here) and it's something I can't eat anymore, I'm craving it, naturally. (Funny how that works: take away pretty much all the food groups from your diet and all of a sudden things that you never really liked before becomes something that sounds absolutely divine and I. Must. Have. It. Right. Now.) So I decided to experiment. Last night I made a gluten-free pie crust of rice flour, homemade baking powder (I can't eat commercial b.p. so I make my own), salt, butter, an egg and water. It wasn't too hard and though completely crumbly, it tasted surprisingly like a pie crust should. Then I sliced three large granny smith apples (I was SO excited when those suckers rolled into Tesco because they are one of two kinds of apples I can eat without many stomach issues following) and cooked them a little with fresh lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, cloves and a little water. I didn't cook them all the way, so they were tender but crunchy and infused with the tartness of lemon juice and the tanginess of the spices- in other words, pure bliss. I poured the apples into the pie crust, baked for a few more minutes and voila, I had pie at my finger tips. It was the right combination of sweet and savory without any added sugar whatsoever. And of course I somehow managed not to get a picture of the finished product (I do have pics of the crust itself though).

I have decided that next time I'll experiment with the crust (I'd like to substitute olive oil for the butter; I'd also like to try other flours, but unfortunately for me, my only alternative source here in Slovakia that I can eat is the rice flour) and  instead of using whole apple slices, I'll cook the apples down where I can make a puree (or apple sauce, if you will). I'm also going to try to make a pumpkin pie out of fresh pumpkin (okay, it's actually squash) as well sometime next week, maybe. But definitely the apple one again. It's too good not to share with those around me!!!!

Locked inside the Cemetery

Yes, folks, it's true. Yours truly managed to get herself locked in the cemetery in Banska Bystrica on Friday evening. I knew it closed and the locked the gate, but I didn't bother to look at the time and ended up getting yelled at by a security guard who told me the cemetery was closed. So I headed down the hill to the gate thinking he was going to come too. Only, he didn't.

As I approached the gate I saw a whole lot of darkened outlines of people standing on the opposite side of the gate. They almost looked like they were waiting to come in, which didn't make sense to me (later I found out they had gathered to pray). As I neared the gate, squinting in the darkness to see I noticed the gate was chained shut with a padlock. So I stood there staring at the gate, the lock and the people on the other side waiting for the security guard to come, who never did. Awkward doesn't even really begin to describe it.

Finally, someone on the other side started asking me questions. I finally had to tell them all I was American, I spoke and understood only a little Slovak and that I was waiting for the security guard. One of the women in the group finally took charge and started speaking to me in English and was giving me instructions about finding some phone number (which wasn't there) and then finally suggested I climb over the fence. I thought, You have got to be kidding me, lady! I'm not desecrating a cemetery more than I already have by taking pictures of it!

I kept staring at the very tall iron gate as the Slovaks continued to stare at me. Finally, one man said, "Can I help you?" All I could think was, Help me what, bucko? He then said, "I will help you. It's not hard," and started climbing the gate. I muttered an "unbelievable" as I started climbing as well. Sure enough, he helped me over the top of the gate and when I couldn't find my footing, I felt another man's hands holding my feet (and weight) and lowering me down the gate as I moved with my hands. When I was low enough to just drop, the man let go of my feet and down I came.

I didn't even know what to say at the point. I was trying not to just bust out laughing right then and there. I was stuttering like an idiot trying to thank them and could barely look at any of them as my mind was grappling with what had happened and whether or not I had just committed the cultural no-no of the year. One of the girls in the group asked me if I was okay, to which I said I was fine. And I was. I was just in a bit of shock with the situation as a whole. But at least it wasn't traumatizing. I immediately started laughing at myself after I walked away from the cemetery and praying masses.

So, how was your Friday night?!

All Saints Day

As I have done for the last two years, at least, I walked through the cemetery again this year on All Saints Day. Different city, but the same tradition none-the-less. I love the cemetery. I don't view it as a gothic or morbid place, but a very calming romance between the living and the dead. The dead may be dead, but the living still miss them, love them, visit them taking care of their graves, preserving their memories day in and day out through caring gestures and prayers.

 In the stillness and quiet of the cemetery, I shut the world out and soaked in my surroundings. Crisp fall air. The smell of melting wax. The crunch of leaves beneath my feet. The hushed voices of people praying over and for deceased loved ones. The clouded sky covering any light from moon or stars. The glow of the candles dancing hypnotically along the darkened hillside.

As I walked, a light caught my eye around a very darkened corner of the cemetery; trance-like, I walked to it and ended up sitting on a grave and staring at this candle for a long while. It was surrounded by darkened, unkept graves, but gave the most beautiful light. I completely lost all track of time and reality as I stared at it. (Is it just me, or does it seem very Protestant?)

If it hadn't been for the closing of the cemetery, I think I could have stayed there for hours just simply being. Thinking. Praying. Call me morbid if you'd like, but around this time of year, this is a place I don't think I will ever tire of seeing or walking through. It's a kind of calmness and tranquility that soaks into your every pore going down into the very depths of your soul leaving an inward feeling of warmth and peace. 

Leaves

I was running this morning and came upon a path full of leaves. Okay, not too unusual in the fall, right? Well, I noticed that some of the leaves were completely white. Pure white. Abnormally white. Has anyone ever seen something like this before? I don't think I ever have. But then again, maybe I've just never noticed before.

Box

Sister one sent me the most delicious package in the mail this week. Why delicious? Because of this

 (Baking and experimenting here I come!!!!!)

And THESE!!!!!!!!!

(I must admit, I'm already halfway through the first Harry Potter, and I watched Serenity the night I opened the package. I've never read or seen either, so it's been absolutely marvelous brain pleasure!)

She also sent some beloved button downs

(Laugh all you want, people, but I love them)

And this package even included some amazing artwork from some amazing nieces and nephews, too!

These will be hung on my wardrobe so I can see it every day!! Thank you A, R, C and A!!!!

Thank you, sister one, for yet another wonderful and appreciated package!!!! 

(Oh, and in case anyone is wondering, cumin smells. Even through a ziplock and plastic bag. And it makes everything around it smell too, including the box it's shipped in. I'm really surprised it wasn't ripped open and contraband removed at the border! But at the same time, I'm glad it wasn't!!!!!)

Attempted at my own risk

I am not a seamstress. I am not a sewer. I am not very good when it comes to creativity with much of anything by any stretch of the imagination. But... I decided to attempt to make curtains for the kitchen. [Cue doomsday music for potential impending disaster!]

I was wandering around Baumax (the Slovak equivalent of Home Depot or Loew's) in the curtain section looking for something for my room. Honestly, I was horrified at what I say, and the prices being asked for it. (Um, 10 euro for a completely sheer, cheap looking curtain I have to buy two of to cover the window?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Yeah, I'll just stick to bare windows and flashing the neighbors, thanks, because completely sheer would be doing the same thing anyway!) The school gave me a budget (small) and if I wanted something nicer I'd have to pay for most if it myself (with the money I don't have), so I was just about to give up because I couldn't afford the nicer, higher end curtains, and I didn't want the cheaper, lower end curtains. [Enter Clearance Rack stage left.]

And there it was. One single curtain. A creamy off-white color. Thick material. Right length. And only 8 euro. The only bummer was there was only one. I debated as to whether I should even buy it because, well, it's one and I needed two. And then it occurred to me to turn one curtain into two. I have a single brown curtain at home that's unusable (it came with two other curtains that are now in the Roomies room, but the third wasn't needed), so I made a decision (and justified it by telling myself, if it didn't turn out, then it's only an 8 euro loss and I have some material floating around at home for those sewing emergencies I have so many of... oh wait...). Anyway, I removed the loops off the brown curtain, cut the white curtain in half, removed its loops, turned the white material halves sideways, hemmed the edges and sewed on the loops, alternating brown and white. Not the best looking thing in the world, but it gets the job done. If I'm able to find someone with a sewing machine, I'd like to continue to cut up the brown curtain and add stripes or trim to the white curtains. But for now, they're keeping the neighbors from being able to see into our kitchen.