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.