coincidence? maybe not

yesterday was my first day of classroom-ish time at cpe (clinical pastoral education - basically functioning as a chaplain).  when we went around to do introductions, my cpe supervisor introduced herself and mentioned that she was from slovakia (which i had learned in email introductions, where she had also mentioned that she had been a pastor in eastern slovakia).  she never mentioned where she was a pastor in emails, but when she introduced herself to our group, i discovered that she was a pastor in rankovce!!

before monika and lubo (my host parents) were pastors, there was another clergy couple who were pastors in rankovce and while i was in rankovce i had heard a bit about them, but not too much, so their names easily slipped out of my mind, until yesterday.  silvia and her husband were pastors of the church in rankovce and now she is my site supervisor.  how cool is that?

i'm excited to see where god takes me on this continuing journey.  somehow i don't think god is done with me and slovakia yet, and i'm ok with that :)

emily's creed

while i was in slovakia, i did quite a bit of thinking about and reflecting on my beliefs and my faith.  then, the other day, a friend asked me in an email what i believe and the following is what i came up with.

i question my faith and my beliefs all the time.  it's not a bad thing.  for example, the only time i really ever feel any kind of certainty about jesus' resurrection is on easter.  if you ask me on easter, i'm confident that jesus rose from the grave.  if you ask me at another time, then i'm not as sure.

doubt is a normal and natural part of your faith.  a lot of people pin doubt against faith, but someone once told me that the opposite of faith is not doubt, it's apathy.  struggling with what we believe and how we believe is how we grow in our faith.  questions our beliefs, the things we've been taught since forever, is how we mature.  it is necessary for us to grow.

anyway, you actually asked me about my beliefs so here goes:
i believe in a triune god, three persons in one essence in a way that i can't fully understand and can't even come close to fully explaining.
i believe in the person of god who created me and the world and everything in it and everything to come.
i believe in the god incarnate, jesus christ, who came to bring us back into right relationship with god.  i believe that jesus loved fiercely and radically each person he met, but especially those who were oppressed.  i believe that jesus' love is not the easiest thing to accept or to live into, but it is always there for everyone.  i believe that jesus was tortured and killed on the cross and i believe that he rose again.
i believe in the person of god who works in and through us each day as the creative and holy spirit.  i believe in the creativity and reconciliation that comes to each of us because of the holy spirit.
i also believe in people, that we are created good and that we are created in god's image, each and everyone of us just as we are.

so, that's my own "emily's creed," and it comes out far more confident than i necessarily feel most of the time, but my beliefs are not about being 100% on any of these.  if i knew any of these things, it would cease to be faith, it would lose its meaning.  faith is about not being certain, but believing anyway.  people can say that believing unknowable things is stupid or silly, but we all do it, we believe in love, a concept that none of us can fully grasp.  for me, my faith is about this inability to give up on hope, hope that there is something bigger, something beyond me, which is the source of all of our love and that something (god) is constantly working in and through us, so that everyone and everything on earth might know love and justice and peace.

if you're interested in more of my musings, wonderings, and wanderings in seminary, let me know and i'll connect you with other ways to keep in touch with me :)

remain true to the mystery

remain true to the mystery.
pass on the whole story.
do not go back.
i am with you now and i am waiting for you.

remain true to the mystery.

god works in ways i've never understood and probably never will. i don't always know when god is at work, and i don't always appreciate the work god does, but i have found a new reverence for that mystery. god worked on days that i didn't want to speak english, but was supposed to and then had immensely meaningful conversations because of it.

as i get ready to start seminary, my goal is, indeed, to remain true to the mystery. to stay true to this year i have lived in slovakia. to remain true to the changes that have happened inside me. to remain true to the new way i have found to be in this world. as i received communion this morning, i was in awe of the mystery that is holy communion. it is not something that i can describe or articulate in words, but something that i feel to the depths of my being. there are many things in this world (and not in this world) that i doubt, but the power and holiness of sharing holy communion is not one of them. a broken people around a broken body all over the world, finding welcome, grace, mercy, and forgiveness. that is my mystery, and to it i will remain true.

pass on the whole story.

in my effort to remain true to the mystery of this year, i tried to pass on the whole story (in 12-15 minutes, which were a bit longer than 12-15 minutes) at church today. i was the preacher. i won't go into what i said, but as i spoke, i found closure to the year i have lived. i will not forget the people i was with or the stories i have or the love that i found, and i definitely want to go back as soon as i can save up enough money for a plane ticket.

i did find closure, however, to the good and the bad that i lived through. i was able to share part of the whole story in a way that gave new life. god worked in big ways through the sermon, in me and in others. my story is not done, and there are many more parts to the whole story of my year, but i have now begun, and i am now ready to continue. last week, during communion, i came home. this week, i found closure. next week, i will be beginning the adventure anew at seminary in chicago.

do not go back.

though i have come back to vail, i did not go back. i did not give up. i did not quit. more importantly, i did not let my coming back, be going back. i came back, but i came back differently. i am a new person. i have not changed, but in so many ways i have changed profoundly. god has worked in me. my call has been strengthened to a ministry at the margins. i cannot go back to life as it was. even if i tried, i would be unable to get the people, places, happenings, and stories out of my head. and i don't want to. i am not going back to the united states, but i continue to move forward. i come to a new country, which has survived terrorist threats, environmental disasters (though that's still ongoing) and many other things. i come back someone who has learned a new language, found a new way of being in this world, loved, lost, cried, rejoiced, and found god.

i am with you now and i am waiting for you.

god was with me in slovakia. the holy spirit worked profoundly in me and through all of us there in slovakia. god was there before i came and remained as i left. god was at work here in vail this whole time and was here to bring me home and help me find closure. there is no doubt in my mind that god is in chicago, waiting for me. waiting for the next step on this journey of life. waiting to embrace me in the energy and spirit of the place. god is waiting with those in chicago who wait for me and god is with me as i begin this new journey. as i begin to try to figure out what it means to be a grown-up who still colors, sings poorly, and loves a god she doesn't understand.

remain true to the mystery.
pass on the whole story.
do not go back.
i am with you now and i am waiting for you.

coming home

although i'm sure my friends (and especially family) wish it weren't so, when i returned on saturday night, i did not come home. yes, i was in the house i grew up in. yes, i had dinner with my mom, brother, aunt, and grandmother. but, no. i was not home. for the past year (and stale teraz - still now) my home has been a small village in eastern slovakia. in that place i found community, love, and home. always and forever i will think of that place as home.

so, coming back to vail was hard. really hard. on sunday morning i went to church. i received many hugs (which were wonderful and more appreciated than the givers probably knew), but before the service started, i didn't quite get to my pastor to say hello. that meant that during announcements, when he mentioned that i'd be back next week and be giving the sermon, he didn't realize i was there.

when i went up for communion, i knelt at the altar and put out my hands to receive the bread. pastor scott gave me the bread, saying, "the body of christ, given for you, emily." then he covered my hands with his and said, "welcome home." with tears in my eyes, i received communion.

then i was home.

make maps as you go

make maps as you go,
remembering the way back from before you were born.
so you will be only the first of many waves
of deliverance on the desert seas.
it is the first of many beginnings -
your paschaltide.

make maps as you go,

so...i was supposed to write up all sorts of info about my site for the next volunteer while i was still in rankovce. i did...kind of. i wrote up the important things (my contact info and all the stuff that i didn't know at all), but there are some maps that just shouldn't be made. at least not for other people. each new volunteer must navigate the new relationships and new cultural practices for herself.

i did make maps, though. as anyone who has been with me for at least a day this past year can attest to, i have faithfully kept a journal (actually, it ended up being two journals) throughout the year. each day, i've written what happened and, more importantly, how i felt, what i thought about, what i did. this is my map. if the next volunteer has questions about some cultural thing or anything like that, then i have an additional resource to help her. i have a map for myself, so i don't forget what it was like living in rankovce, slovensko for a year. i have a map, so i remember the people who changed me for the better. i have a map, so i remember what this year continues to mean to me.

remembering the way back from before you were born.

the other thing the journals will do for me, is to help me remember the change in me. more than anything else, my relationship with my god has changed this year. i am beginning to remember that way back from before i was born, that way back to god. i have figured out what i need to be in relationship with god. i have learned what i believe about this merciful and grace-filled god in whom i believe. i have learned of the complications in life and that when we recognize that not everything is black and white, the next step is recognizing that it's not just shades of gray either, but instead that life is a rainbow of shades, highlights, colors, and tones.

life is meant to be lived and lived to the fullest. the only way to live life to the fullest is if we are all living life to the fullest. it is that connection between each of us, as beloved children of a god, who takes delight in us, that keeps me from living life fully when another is in pain. that connection and that hope for a full life for us all is the way back from before i was born.

so you will be only the first of many waves

well, i was the first. the first yagm in rankovce, at least. it had its ups and downs, but was filled with far more ups than downs. my life has been one filled with firsts (as, i suppose, all of ours are), at least for me. the thing about waves is that they never really disappear, they build up, they crash, and they are incorporated in new ways into the ocean or sea from which they came.

so to is it with yagm year. we come from our communities, build up our relationships in a new community, crash down as we leave, and are incorporated in new ways both in our "home" communities and in these communities that have become our home. we are changed forever. they are changed forever. and maybe, just maybe, we together have more fully experienced god's love and sa staneme (we end up/become) better for the journey, for the build up, the crash, and the new incorporation.

of deliverance on the desert seas.

the first of many, but how many waves of deliverance did i experience this year? it was in the smaller, more "mundane" things that i was delivered from getting too down, too frustrated, to upset. it was in birthday corn at kfc, ball pit ball fights on the new year's eve retreat, priklady and light bulb moments that assured me that something had been learned, passover, shared with others, singing in so many different languages, not always knowing what i was singing, but always knowing why, building bridges, making connections and loving.

it is in each of these, and in so many other ways, that i was delivered. i found my deliverance in this community and in the support i received from others "back home." my deliverance continues each day and as i go on to a new community, my deliverance and my salvation will continue to roll over me, building up, crashing down, and incorporating anew inside me.

it is the first of many beginnings -

we all know the saying, each ending is just a new beginning. as much as i try to avoid those all-too-common sayings, it's true. a year ago, i had a new beginning. school had ended, i graduated, and i was going somewhere new. one of my first beginnings in what was for me a new world. now, as i head back to the states, and begin to prepare for another new beginning, i look forward once again with hope for what chicago and seminary will bring.

it is not quite the same hope with which i looked a year ago. a year ago, most people i knew were all getting ready to move apart, we were all graduating. now, i am the one who has left. i am going to a new beginning. as i look forward in hope for what god has in store for me, i also look back on what god has given me this year. as i prepare for a new step on this journey, the steps i have taken on my own and with others this year are still so close to me.

there are footprints on my heart that are so fresh, i still feel the full weight of the person on my heart. yes, the weight will lighten some, especially as we find ways to continue to be together, to be in relationship with each other, but that weight will always be there. my life and my future has been shaped by this year and my being is beginning anew from this year. i am no longer just my parents' daughter, i am also my own person, a young woman, beginning in this world.

your paschaltide.

paschaltide is the word for the easter season (or the passover time in the jewish tradition). my paschaltide is my journey with christ. it is singing hosannas for a humble entry into jerusalem, into my world. it is having my feet washed by a god who loves me more than i can imagine. it is abandonment and fear of what is happening and what is to come. it is deep sorrow and despair at the loss of light. it is eyes opening onto a new morning where all is filled with uncontainable and unexplainable joy. that is my paschaltide. that is my life. that is my story. in different times and places throughout our lives, this becomes each of our stories. it is a part of who we are. as we live our paschaltide, we live into the call of christ in our lives.

make maps as you go,
remembering the way back from before you were born.
so you will be only the first of many waves
of deliverance on the desert seas.
it is the first of many beginnings -
your paschaltide.

continue to call each other by the names i've given you

continue to call each other by the names i've given you
to help remember who you are.
touch each other,
and keep telling the stories.

continue to call each other by the names i've given you

emily elizabeth ewing, child of god, sealed by the holy spirit and marked with the cross of christ forever. i was named long before i was born. from the start, i was claimed as god's beloved child. each of us can claim that name. each of us was given that identity. as i lived and loved in slovakia, i had a variety of possibilities for my name. if i really wanted to be slovak, my full name would have been milka alžbeta ewingová, i ended up going by emi/emy:) no matter what my name or nickname ended up being, i was always me, child of god, sealed by the holy spirit and marked with the cross of christ forever. my baptismal promise, affirmed in my confirmation, remains with me. each of the people i met, though called by their own names, were also children of god.

to help remember who you are.

it is in keeping the identity of child of god, that i would remember who i am. at my deepest sadness and my highest joy, i remained, emily elizabeth ewing, child of god, sealed by the holy spirit and marked with the cross of christ forever. and each person i met there, reminded me not only of my identity as a child of god, but reminded me of their identity as a child of god as well. i was constantly reminded that god was at work in slovakia long before i came and will continue to be there long after i left. i experienced god among god's children and even when i wasn't sure about anything else, i remembered who i am and whose i am as a child of god.

touch each other,

to touch someone, it means there must be a physical connection. yes, i can be "touched by" something, but when it comes down to it, touch requires physical presence. so, touch each other. be with each other. be in the presence of others. when doing things, it's not so easy to touch someone. not intentionally, anyway. to touch someone, there both must be physically present, but there must also be intention. i touched people this year and they touched me. we sat together and laughed. we hugged. we watched lord of the rings. we did things together, but we also just sat together. we practiced being together. that is what kept me going. the touch of others in my life. that small touch worked as the still, small voice, saying "i love you, child of god. you are mine and you are special." touch sustained me this year.

and keep telling the stories.

i don't need to be told that twice. i came here to learn stories. to learn from people here. and i have. i have learned stories and i have learned what it means to love and be loved - by others and by god. i take stories with me as i go. good stories and bad stories. happy stories and sad stories. in each of the stories, i see god. the stories, though currently bottled up inside me will no doubt spill out in a flood. i don't know how to start telling the stories. how do you start in on stories? where do you begin? how do you boil a year's worth of stories and experiences into a few hours, or even a few minutes? once started, i can keep telling the stories, but i might need some help getting started. can you ask me? please, ask me for stories. ask for a type of story. ask for a story that stands out most distinctly in my mind. ask me for the most recent thing i was thinking about. ask me what story i need to tell somebody. i'll keep telling, but please help me get started.

continue to call each other by the names i've given you
to help remember who you are.
touch each other,
and keep telling the stories.

sing songs as you go

sing songs as you go,
and hold close together.
you may at times grow confused
and lose your way.

sing songs as you go

music. there was a time in my life when i thought that people put too much emphasis on music, especially at church (it didn't help that i was never all that talented at singing). i wanted to try a church service without singing, to see what it would be like to worship god without music. this year has changed that. at the beginning of the year, i couldn't relate very well to the communal experience of a worship service because i didn't know the language well enough to sing along, and in slovakia there is a TON of music. pretty much everything is sung (at least, that's what it feels like).

by october, i missed my "home music" - mainly the hymns we always used to sing at luther during chapel or worship - so much that i asked a friend if she could email me some hymns if she had any. in early november, a package arrived with a cd of what i labeled on my computer as "home music."

though the label has stuck, i have found myself in the opposite position as i prepared to leave home to return to the usa. during the last official mládež, som dostala (i received) a cd of christian songs in slovak that we have sung in mládež and dorast throughout the year. though several of these songs are the slovak version of english songs i know, and though i sing along in english much of the time, it is precisely these songs in slovak that provide me with comfort. they remind me who i am (kto som ja) and they are what ensure that i remember the journey that i've been on this year.

it has been in slovakia (and in slovak) that i have learned not only to talk about god, but i have learned how i need to organize my life so that i can continue to grow in my relationship with god. i really, really like theological inquiry, but that is not what i need in order to relate to god. i need prayer (and prayer shawls), bibles in many languages, and i need songs - songs in community.

whether i sing "ty mi davaš toto zeleny" (what i thought were the lyrics for the first 8 or so months) or "ty mi dávaš nohy jelenic" (the actual lyrics), when i sing it with others, i know the meaning of it. singing "do tmy na svet" (here i am to worship) surrounded by roma and non-roma dorast and our camp leaders in a community room transformed into a place of worship has far more meaning than that song ever had when i sang it in the usa. now, when i listen to that song, i cannot help but remember that time, the people around me singing. being able to close my eyes and connect, with those around me, to my god.

as i leave, this rings, perhaps, truer than ever:
sing songs as you go.

and hold close together

in the beginning, we were yagms. we were called together on august 19th and sent out on august 26th. then we were just us slovak yagms. me. lisa. sepp. in bratislava during orientation, we managed to hold close together. we were the only ones from the states in our program, because the rest were germans. we held close. as we then went to our placements, we were just us. individuals. individuals called by god to be in this world. we separated a bit. we didn't hold quite as closely together. slowly we came back around, however, and found each other again. lisa and i especially found ways to hold close to each other, whether through skype, phone calls or visits. not only did she become a big part of my life and my year, but her host family also became an integral experience for me.

now as i go back to the usa, i feel desperate, even, to hold close together to others as well. the number of meaningful conversations (in slovak, english, and many times both) that i have had here and the moments i have shared have comforted me and given me joy. the looks i've shared with more meaning than words could hold, the face making, the hugs (oh, the hugs), the "ako sa máš?" that wants a real answer, the blessings after burps :) there are things i have shared with people that i have no adequate words for. as i have gone from slovakia, i began to (somewhat desperately) hold close together. i didn't want to let go.

this is presné where someone else's wisdom came in. in our material to help us get ready to leave, one of the key pieces of advice was "saying 'good-bye' is never easy, but once you are back home, you will be glad you did." that stuck with me and so, as much as i despise rozlúčky, i did my best to say good-byes to everyone. i tried to find closure, clear the air, get in one last hug, make sure they knew (at least a fraction of) how much they meant to me. though i may never be able to fully understand, let alone fully explain how much each individual in my life this past year has meant to me. i wish i could find a way to convey it, but, sadly, i don't know if i ever will. all i can do is pray that they know their worth, if not their worth to me, than their worth to god.

so, as i go, i do my best to hold close together with everyone.

you may at times grow confused and lose your way.

this has happened more times than i can count for sure. whether it was miscommunication, lack of communication, or just not having the vocabulary. there were many times we would be in the middle of something and i would get the light bulb moment of, "aha! that's what we're doing/what they mean/where we're going." even through to the end i had those moments and i continue to have those moments as i look toward being in a new culture. as i pass through the culture here in germany, i can't help but be confused by cultural norms here that quite fully clash with my slovak culture and my usa culture. that is part of life. confusion comes with the desire to know and learn.

i have lost my way, but have been found by others. i have lost my heart, but been shown where it is. i have lost my meaning, and god has given me even greater and deeper meaning in my life. whether through people, things, or random moments, each time that i have lost my way, god has provided what i needed to find it again, to get back on the path with god. there have even been times when god has picked me up and carried me back. losing my way has taught me life lessons about honesty, laughters and smiles, joy and sorrow, but each time i come back to myself and, more importantly, i come back to god.

sing songs as you go,
and hold close together.
you may at times grow confused
and lose your way.