Welcome to Polička!

Ten days have past since Jamie and I first stepped onto Czech soil. Our time has been chaotic, fun, stressful, lonely, beautiful, frustrating, awkward, humbling, insightful and the list goes on and on. We have not had internet access for most of the time we have been in Policka, so it has been disappointing that we have not been able to communicate. Thus, I will give you a very short synopsis as to what we have been up to and what our first impressions have been.

The room that I am writing this post in, is empty. It is the first time I have seen this specific room empty in quite a while. Katie, the woman who was here before, is saying bye to many families and has since moved her belongings out; so, the room is now our office. For the past ten days 20 Americans from Oklahoma have used this office as a launching point for the day's activities during the English Camp. The camp was a success, as we had about 100 students participate and we had 20 Czech volunteers. Initial reactions, on my part, were skeptical, because Jamie and I did not know anyone. What were our roles? Would the kids accept us? Would the Czech volunteers like us? They were pretty elementary questions, but because we have made such a drastic change, even the most basic assurances are rewarding and fulfilling.
Looking back on the camp I have realized that Jamie and I will be very different from the way Katie ran the program. This is good, because our vast array of differing interests enable us, as a congregation and as teachers to reach out to disparaging people and interests.

So much happened during these past 10 days, that I really am struggling to focus as a write. Please read Katie's blog about the camp, because she was very fastidious in keeping her blog updated during the camp. As for me, I will say a few things.

1. Jamie and I have been showered with grace and love since we have arrived in the Czech Republic. Czechs have a calm and methodical demeanor that to many Americans, including myself, seems cold and distant. Yet, the Czech heart is strong and I feel very luck, because many of the people we have met have been warm and welcoming: they bake dinner for us, they converse with us, they do not get frustrated when they can't understand my broken Czech, they wash our underwear, they give you tons of beer and then more beer, because you are their guest of honor; they lend bicycles and they encourage. Yesterday, we went to Moravian Highlands to visit a cave. The trip was beautiful as we passed through rolling hills, villages and then headed into deciduous forests. Jamie and I decided to hike up to the cave and then later decided to hike the rest of the way up the mountain. As we were climbing, I began to think about the Czechs who were with me and how I thoroughly enjoyed their company. Excitedly, they pointed with pride at a sheer 184 meter drop, where the mouth of a cave emerged from the blackness and a stream lazily flowed past. It was a scene full of granduer and power.
After our hike up the mountain, we stopped for lunch and then headed back to the bus. I decided to sit on the curb and eat my sandwich while I waited for the other members of our team to board. I was in my comfortable position for about 5 minutes when a man named Jirka came up to me and urgently called me over. Jirka does not speak much English, but I feel as though I understand him: he is kind and loving, which transcends our language barrier. Anyways, Jirka was waving his arms, because he wanted me to look at a 1960 skoda. Skoda, is the Czech automobile that was made popular during the Communist era and is still made today; many Czechs drive them. He was very proud to show me this old car, because he said it was rare and was a great example of a beautiful Czech car. It was small and red and it had a hint of rust. The car got me thinking.

Jirka was proud of that car, and, in a way, I think it represents the Czech people. We Americans would have found the car comical, because it was puny and was not very extravigant; and much like the car, Czech pride seems to be smaller, yet just as powerful as our American swagger.The car came from the Communist era, an era of repression and hopelessness. the car seemed to scream out in its own way: "look at me! I may be small and I may not be respected, but I am here. I can be seen and some day I will be upheld with pride." And that, is the Czech character: maybe not well known and a little bit shy, but it is still breaking through.

This sounds sentimental, and I didn't want to get cheesy, but the care of people involved with this church has been overwhelming. Jamie and I are lucky.


Also: we are leaving for our trip around Europe. We will try to be in contact and will hopefully post on this blog as often as possible.

Pictures will be coming!!

Last Day in PA

One aspect of my character that I wish I was able to change, is my laziness when it comes to reflection. I know it is important and that I should take time to slow down my hustle-bustle world, but I find it very difficult. Often times when I make a conscious effort to attempt this art of thinking, I end up falling asleep, or my train of thought meanders into obscurity leaving me either frustrated or just plain tired: nothing has been accomplished; I am befuddled.

Our last day here in the United States has arrived, which struck me suddenly with vindictive resoluteness as I was taking a shower. Tonight, some friends are going to take me and Jamie out to a local restaurant, "The Hot Dog Shoppe." No, it is not a high-brow institution; rather, it is quite the opposite: a dingy eatery where the same cast of characters conglomerate, usually consisting of old men discussing politics wearing union jackets and brim-stained steelers' caps. I am fond of ordering the "chili-cheese" fries, which is the apex of a cholesterol-pounding cuisine that has made America famous. The "cheese-paste", as it is affectionately referred to, is a congealed mass of yellow and salt, but oh-so delicious on a pile of fries. Does it sound appetizing? Probably not, but that is OK, because for "out-of-towners" it never is. The Hot Dog Shoppe's endearment to me as a local is what makes it special: late-night conversations, lunches on Sunday after church, eating my fries with a fork and, of course ,the "wiener cups." This will be my last time to indulge and it is sobering. I won't be seeing many of my friends for a while, let alone eating my favorite chili-cheese fries; I won't be able to run down the street and know exactly what is expected of me in a social setting; I won't be able to play wiffle-ball with a long-time friend, I won't be able to talk to my brothers daily about their new adventures. No, it is going to be different.

I know that I have said before that change is good and it is. I know that the Czechs have their own local traditions and "hang-outs" where people congregate and tell stories. I just hope that one day, I will be able to partake. But, for now, I am left to wonder of what might be. I guess that is natural. For now, however, Jamie and I will go out one last time with our friends and have one-last hurray in hopes for a safe travels and a smooth transition into our new lives.

Happy 4th of July!

Happy 4th of July! We have 12 days until we leave for the Czech Republic. I can hardly believe it is getting so close. There is still some things we need to take care of, but after seeing Jan and his family I know me and Jeremy are less nervous and mentally more prepared. We hope everyone is having a nice holiday, and please keep checking in to see what we are up to, because our journey is only about to begin!

Doma: HOME

Jamie and I are living the quintessential transient life; each week we are on the move: next is Waynesburg, then to Tennessee, then an excursion to Ohio, then to Erie, then to Pittsburgh and, finally, the apex of it all, the Czech Republic. Currently, Pine Springs is our humble abode and it has been a blessing. I worked as a counselor at Pine Springs for three years and Jamie has worked as program staff for a year; so, whenever we get the chance to come and visit, we take up the offer.

Pine Springs was the place where I met Jan Dus and his wonderful children, it was here that I found tangible Christian community and it was here where I had relationships with hundreds of wonderful children. And, in coming back, I've realized that nothing has changed.

When you drive to Pine Springs, the road to take is Route 30, as it winds its way through the bucolic Pennsylvania countryside and then into the foothills of the Appalachian mountains, known in PA, as the Alleghenies. I forgot how much I missed the sight of gently rising slopes and long chains interspersed with valleys and rolling farm land; it is beautiful. I could not help but think about how much I will miss this scene when me and Jamie move to Czech Republic; but, then, I have to remind myself that the Czech Republic, topographically, and climate wise is much like Pennsylvania. It was along this train of thought, when my conscious was jarred back 6 years.



In 2002, I was a 18 years old and my grandma was alive at the dignified age of 81. She was a women of much faith, yet, one who knew her fair share of hardship. In 1969 she had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's Disease (ALS) and was only expected to live until 1971. ALS is a ruthless killer; it can subdue victims in less than six months upon diagnosis and most only live about 3 years with the affliction, which explains the sobering death expectancy she received from doctors long ago. Ironically, my Grandma out lived many of those same doctors who gave her the somber news; she was a medical miracle. Instead of only living until 1971, she lived long enough to see her son grow up and have triplets (me!!), witnessed the fall of the Berlin wall and understood the impacts of the proliferation of the internet. However, the age of 81 was not kind to her, and I knew that it wouldn't be long until she passed.

When I think back to her last year on this earth, I am drawn towards a conversation I had in the winter. I used to ask my Grandma about history; I wanted to know what WWII was like, how she lived in the depression and how she met my grandfather; but, on this occasion, she spoke about her childhood. I had known for many years that her region of birth was not the United States; in fact, she was born in what was then known as Czechoslovakia. Where she was born, I do not know, but she spoke of herself as a Czech and spoke a little of the language. Her parents emigrated to the United States in the early 1920s to pursue a better life. They settled in the town of Alquippa, which is located about 15 miles north of Pittsburgh on the Ohio River, as it was the site of J&L Steel company, which employed 10,000 workers at its height. So, my Great Grandfather took a job and settled his young family; he spoke very little English. To this day, much of my Grandmother's family still resides in what is known as "West Aliquippa," the section of the town that was set aside for Eastern Europeans: mostly Czechs and Slovaks.

My Grandma's story is not very different from many of the families that now reside in the steel towns along the Ohio river. Consequently, in Pittsburgh, many families take pride in their past and their families original ethnicity. So, in a way, I was proud of my Grandma and asked her about the Czech Republic. She was too young to really remember, but she passed down to me what her parents and neighbors told her about the "old country", which my Dad still says when talking about the Czech Republic. She spoke of winters, and rolling hills; farmers and folk tales; historically-based traditions, art, the Catholic Church, but she spurned the beer. Then, I remember her saying that her father was content with living in Western Pennsylvania, because it reminded him so much of his home: there are hills, winters, Catholic Churches and beer. I can't say for sure whether my Great Grandfather really did feel that Western Pennsylvania was his home, but I will soon have an inclination as to what he might have felt.
Jamie and I, unlike my Grandma, will not be moving to the Czech Republic to find a better life or to flee from oppression, but we will have a mission and purpose. Whether Policka will become a new "home" to us is a question that we can ask in the future. Yet, I would be remiss not to be cognizant of God's working hand in my life and in my family's. Who would have thought that the Grandson of a Czech woman would now be moving to the "old country" from whence she came? Who could have imagined that my Great Grandfather would struggle to learn English, just as I am now struggling to learn his native Czech? I firmly believe that history does not move in a cycle; that fortune's wheel, so often spoken of in history, might be a fallacy, but I can see that in some ways individual lives can work in cyclical patterns, which God uses to help his people experience personal insight; to reveal how a rooted past is necessary for the future; or for an apocalyptic vision into how God's hand has masterfully woven love, family, history and calling all into one beautiful whole. I think my Grandma would be proud.




Jan's family is at Pine Springs the same week that Jamie and I have been; we both have thoroughly enjoyed practicing our Czech with his kids. They seem to be impressed, which is good, considering Jamie and I have studied hard!

The excitement and nervousness are building....

-Jeremy

He is good and I'll be fine

There is one month before Jeremy and I are on our way to the Czech Republic, and each day it becomes more real for me. We have our flight information, we just received our Eurail passes, we have started sorting our what we are going to take and each day we get a little more comfortable with what we know of the language. 30 days, that's all we have, which is exciting, yet nerve wracking at the same time. What is it going to be like? Are they going to like us? Are our classes going to go well? There are hundreds of other questions that float in and out of my mind, and Jeremy is always there to reassure me that we are going to be fine. Honestly, there are times that I become overwhelmed thinking about our move, and that's when I need to remind myself that God has been preparing us for this move and there are things we are not going to know, which is good. If we knew everything that we would encounter and learn, would we be going? Yet, regardless of how nervous I get, God is going to be there, pointing out in small ways that He is good and I'll be fine. Being a nervous person, God does this all the time for me, through His creation and art. I have noticed that the closer we get to our move the more I want to paint, and I am getting really excited about learning about their art forms and seeing the creativity of the students we will be working with. Art is everywhere, in every culture, and enjoyed by millions of people all over the earth and is one way that we can learn about and accept one other. Praise the Lord, for He is good.

Here are my most resent paintings:

5 weeks and counting...

Less than five weeks separate Jamie and me from our new life in the Czech Republic. Questions abound in our thoughts and rattle around in our heads constantly. One thing, though, is for certain; distance will be a reality. Yet, is distance really such a bad thing? Yes, we know that separation will be difficult for our family and friends and it will surely strain us to a point, but I can't help being excited at the prospect. I mean, for the first time in our whole lives, Jamie and I will be on our own. College gave us a small taste of what independence and responsibility are like, but now we're entering into the world_literally.
Growing up as triplet and Jamie coming from a family that is very close, has given us both childhoods where individuality was hard to come by: it was hard for me, as a young boy, to attain a sense of ownership about my accomplishments, because my brothers were usually doing the same thing; that is how it worked. However, with this trip to the Czech Republic, we now have a chance to see for ourselves and know in the deepest recesses of our emotions what it means to be together, just the two of us. This mission to the Czech Republic, we feel, is the perfect way for us to start out our marriage. To many, leaving the country to live in a foreign nation where you don't speak the language would be marital hell; the stress is more acute, the loneliness is vast and the lack of friendship is exacerbated by the fact that you can't communicate well. Yet, for Jamie an I, we feel that these circumstances can work one of two ways: one, is to lead us apart, if we let the challenges drive a wedge between the two of us; or two, they can work to bring us together, as we rely on each other for our main source of emotional support. There aren't many long-time friends to confide in, there won't be familiar "hide-a-ways" to lock our selves in, and there won't be people around who can relate to our emotions; no, all there will be is each other.
Being married has brought much unwanted "advice" from adults who have shrouded their cynicism towards marriage with a shallow veneer of paternal guidance, and it has affected our emotional equilibrium more than we would like to admit. So, while there are those who would say that our view of traveling abroad as a married couple is naive and crazy, Jamie and I can only answer back as Dostoevsky so eloquently wrote:

"it was a lovely night, one of those nights, dear reader, which can only happen when you are young. They Sky was so bright and starry that when you looked at it the first question that came into your mind was whether it was really possible that all sorts of bad-tempered and unstable people could live under a glorious sky."

-Fyodor Dostoevsky

I guess, in the end, this Czech Mission is our Starry Sky; Jamie and I are young, we are full of hope and, to some, we might be naive. We want our naivety to be challenged and we want tangible examples of how hard this ministry will be, but let that come in God's own planning. For now, what we want is to hold onto our hope for what the mission can be and to build onto the creativity that has already been laid by Kati.

I know that Jan has already written a note in the latest newsletter, where he talks about how this will be an "interesting" time for Jamie and I. Yes, this is going to be one of the hardest and one of the best experiences of our lives and we are so glad that we get to share it, not only with each other, but with all of those involved: from the people in Policka to those in Ohio who will be praying. There is no telling what the next two years might mean for the ministry in Policka, or for Jamie and I; it is good that way.

thoughts...

A few weeks ago, I posted a story about my thoughts while watching a raccoon die. I believe I need to elaborate: I was fighting to grasp evil. I concluded by saying that God works through evil; but, I want to be clear when I say that.

Evil is not the vehicle through which virtue can stand. If that were the case, rape could be seen as a way for God's glory to shine; yet, rape does not point to God, eventhough one's actions, to help the victim, do. Wrongs and injustice cannot and should not be justified by the "good" that comes out.

N. T. Wright has a great quote:

"If we can work toward understanding and being the willing agents of both the divine tears over the world's evil and the fresh creativity that sends out the dove to find new olive branches emerging from the waters of chaos, we shall, I think, be on the right track."

just was thinking and reading.....


6 weeks until Jamie and I leave! We started to organize what we will need to pack; it is sooooo close.