14 August 2016: Emptying Out My Closet

It is almost overwhelming returning home to a room and space and a whole household of things I lived without for a year.  And I mean a full household of my own personal belongings that turned my apartment into a home for two years at University.  There are things I forgot about (My Lego collection and several sets of odd sized bedding), and a few I missed terribly (playing Nintendo 64 Tetris).  Much of my year living in Manchester was done with the consideration of 'living simply', and some of the clutter seems unnecessary in my room now.  The place where I felt this change most was when I turned and looked into my closet with a bit of a sense of angst.

Let me assure you here that there are not any skeletons or bodies hiding in there.  There are no strange relics of past lives or echoes of a self that I'd rather keep hidden.

All there is in there are some old clothes and university t-shirts that might have once been more important than they are today.  Some people might think of them as second skins that create an identity of a formative part of life and should be held onto as memory from that time.  Once upon a time they probably did for me too.  The simple story was that a lot of it didn't fit post-Manchester-me anymore.

They are no longer my identity.  Just memories that were good mostly, have come to pass, and now I have grown into the current best version of me that lived out of two suitcases of clothes for a year.  This current and best version of me also lost several clothes sizes worth of weight after cycling or walking everywhere around Manchester, and the things I left behind last August quite literally no longer fit my body.

Change is easily seen from the physical outside, it was harder for me to see the change a year of accompanying St Chrysostoms Church had inflicted on me until I stood there staring at a closet of transformed 'me's and said out loud to myself:

"It's okay to have grown and not wanting to be who I had been when I was last in this room packing a year ago."


Suddenly that little knot of angst loosened in my chest and I felt like I could let it all go, and give myself the permission to be me as I was in Manchester in Virginia.

Reflection from 17 June 2016

Packing

The date suddenly hits you
  

One month until you finish work, another few weeks before you leave - naturally you start winding projects to a close and packing your things.  There is so much to do, where do you begin?

You start with the immediate, making sure to take in every new moment and experience, tallying up all you've yet to do and all you've already done.  Then these lists take you back in your memory to the beginning of this journey.


Lets start over


Packing started the day you arrived, in a reverse way: everything was new and you had to take it all in somehow.  Sights, tastes, smells, new people, new work, new everything.  All of it at once and you were pushing all this excitement into every day, packing in as much as you could into a day.

It very soon stopped being new, and even though you're miles from where you began it all started to feel familiar, but you were given the chance to be unfamiliar.  Not unfamiliar with others, but with yourself.  Given the chance, you now have the opportunity to grow in a new environment foreign yet familiar to the one you came from.


But now you are at the end and you've still got to pack


How do you fit all of this garden of change into one suitcase, one backpack, one sentence when people ask you how your year was?  You want to ask them, 'Do you have a year for me to adequately explain?'

All you can do is smile when you answer, 'It was good, and I am still trying to unpack all of my experience that has changed me through the past year, though I did not bring nearly as much physically back as I left with!'  But the memories you packed into your heart along the way


They take up no room and weigh the heaviest of all.

Garden from Rocamadour, France

23 minutes/1.2 miles

One of the parks I walk by daily while the sun was setting

I walk a whole ton here in Manchester.  I walk to and from work (most days), which is about 23 minutes/1.2 miles one way.  Mostly along major roads, by a few parks, university halls, a Turkish Grocery, and several strips of little shops.

It's a beautiful walk in the sunshine, rain, when the leaves were bright and green when I first arrived, and now as they change with the season and fall.

I like my walk but sometimes it gets a little monotonous.  The same road, the same trees, the same pavement.  Even some of the same crazy drivers who whiz by me (Thank goodness there are bike lanes for when I ride the bike the church is letting me borrow for the year!).

Walking around the Parish one day, I found
this gem of a sign that reads:
NO FLY TIPPING RUBBISH DUMPING
Translation: Don't throw your trash on our lawn

Because of this 23 minutes of alone time I have twice a day, I have been trying to find ways to use it ‘productively’.

It was almost funny at first when I realized that I was feeling frustrated with time I thought I was wasting walking.  Why was it wasteful?  Walking is good for your health, and it wasn’t as though I never had enough time to get wherever I needed to go while walking.  So punctuality wasn’t my issue.

Was I bored from watching and listening to the cars whiz by?  I tried walking through the parks while it was light enough out instead of along the road, which was gorgeous, but didn’t address the deeper question.  It served to distract me from it.

Sometimes I listen to music, or a podcast while I walk.  That helps to keep me busy, and is usually pretty enjoyable, but this is only something to do during the daytime, and I still am very vigilant of who is around me.

What I began to do which has become a ritual several times a week now, is to use that time to pray.

The road I live down just after a big rain

Some of us (myself included) might be thinking at this point that this was the obvious answer all along, and I’ll say well of course it was.  In fact, it was something I started doing my second week of service at church.  But it still didn’t detract from the feeling of frustration some days.

It is something I’m working on, though.  Prayer is so important, and sometimes I have a focus of people I am praying for (in my first few weeks here I prayed for each country program, alumni, and other supporters of YAGM), and other times I just talk with whoever in the Holy Trinity is listening about what is weighing on my heart today.

 
I’m getting more comfortable with the idea that I have a 23 minutes/1.2 mile walk to and from church each day.  It means that when I need to, or want to, or am called to, I have time and space to pray.  We can do a lot with 23 minutes, but I think I’ve found a way to make the most of it so far.

Rethinking Our Baptisms and Connecting It With Others

We've had several baptisms at St C's Church recently which has reminded me of the sending worship service we had with YAGM where we relived our baptisms while a YAGM Alumn sang this song.  It was a very moving part of the worship where we all took our shoes off and walked through the 'waters' of the font, then had our feet dried by our other Alumni accompanists for the week.  I don't think anyone put their shoes on afterwards, and we all finished our time together in Chicago barefooted and bare souled.

It was one of the moments before we left for our years of service that stuck out to me as meaningful, and I think the best way to explain it is to refer to Luther's Large Catechism:

“Suppose there were a physician who had so much skill that people would not die, or even though they died would afterward live eternally. Just think how the world would snow and rain money upon such a person! Because of the throng of rich people crowding around, no one else would be able to get access. Now, here in baptism there is brought, free of charge, to each person’s door such a treasure and medicine that swallows up death and keeps all people alive.”

In our baptisms, we are all made equally loved children of God, and in this day where I hear something about the refugee crisis in Europe nearly every day on BBC news this is something important to remember.  Even should they not all be baptized Christians, they are all loved Children of God just as much as I am, and they are my siblings in this love.  The language surrounding my brothers and sisters in news articles and radio reports can be extremely xenophobic as the BBC has pointed out, and we as faithful people need to see past this and remember that there are people behind these reports.  There are children and parents and friends who are struggling to find a safe home and need not only our prayers on a Sunday morning but our encouragement of involvement from our respective Governments and relief agencies.

We waded into the water with Christ, why can't we wade into the water with our fellow man?

Ministry Found in a Cup

Figure 1. The view out of my room the
day I arrived.

It was the first words I heard when I arrived to my new home (Figure 1) in Manchester after exchanging hellos, "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" and I have not gone a day without hearing them since two months ago.

I think everyone who moves to England finds that a cup of tea is not just a drink to be consumed, but a type of communication shared within a group of people.  It's a sign of hospitality, welcome, and an invitation to start a conversation.   It's how you start and end your day; it's the middle of the day when you're tired after lunch, or when someone unexpectedly wanders into church (Figure 2).

Figure 2. The Church space I work in

It's this last part that I find so important.  You can never be sure of where someone is emotionally-wise when they walk through the front doors, but somehow tea is always the right way to start a conversation.  Whether it be celebrating joyous news, or working through some intense personal turmoil, or just to hydrate, having that cup in your hands helps to put life in perspective again.

These big revelations over cups of tea do not happen every day, nor am I probably aware of how important most of my cups of tea are; but it doesn't lessen the fact that sitting with someone and listening to what they have to say is so important.  That's one of the biggest lessons I have learned since moving to Manchester.  Fostering those relationships over a cup of tea allows for someone to find our church a safe space to be vulnerable and to talk to God, or just to each other.

What More Can I say?

Wow.

What more can I say?  I have just had an amazing week with YAGM in Chicago, the amazing love and support that was shared during that week completely amazing me.  It was outstanding to witness so many young adults who are in the program, alums of the program, or fervent supporters come together to share such a profound experience.  

It was a bit  exhausting, too.  We had breakfast at 7:30am, and our last session ended at 8:30pm nearly everyday, with only a few hours to process all the intense sessions and delicious meals throughout the day.  There were so many uplifting people all in the same boat, though, so no one really felt how exhausted we all were due to the excitement each day brought us.

Ryan(L), Rebecca, Haley, Luke, Mycah!, and Nicholas(R)

Some of my fondest memories come from the times when my small group met, comprised of people who were all going to different countries (or in the case of our alum, had served in a different country), so we all brought unique perspectives to discuss with the other.  We also made it a point to have fun, heading down to the Lake Michigan beach on our first day to relax in the windy sun while talking about our journey's to that point (pictured right), or setting up someone's slack line (a wikihow article on what this crazy fun contraption is) to enjoy for some stress relief midway through the week.  We found a quiet space to practice meditation, and wrote each other encouraging notes to read in a few months when we need a taste of home.

Waiting for my flight to take off!

After all of this community building we constructed within seven days, it came to pass that everyone started to leave in their country groups to head off to serve, after having spent a week building us up in faith, spirit, and soul in preparation.  I had the interesting experience to be able to fly directly to my service site, and will head to my in country training in a few days.  It was a bit of a fiasco when I arrived to O'hare, but I suppose that's why YAGM gets us there so early!  I thought I was flying with British Airways, but as I found out an hour or so after I'd arrived while waiting for the ticketing counter to open, I was actually flying American Airlines which was located one terminal over.  So, hauling all of my luggage with me, I caught the tram to the other terminal, finally figured out how to check in, waited through the long security line and had a quick lunch, then waited around two more hours for my flight (as a fun joke, I had McDonalds in the airport for my last meal in America, if anyone was wondering).  My flight was then delayed by about an hour for departure, and we had a delay getting to the gate upon arrival, and then the line for boarder patrol was an even longer painstaking wait to get through than security had been.


The welcome I received upon arrival once I was outside the airport was amazing, everyone here in Manchester has made me feel very at home already, and I've just finished my first full day here in town.  I have already experienced hanging my wash up to dry, and had too many cups of tea to count.  The weather has been sunny both yesterday and today, which is a complete misconception of how it usually acts (so I am told).  Soon I will head to Leeds for in country training, and then back again here to Manchester to really begin my year of accompanying these wonderful people who are apart of Saint Chrysostom's Church.

I would like to invite any of you who are interested in receiving a more formal newsletter that will come out every couple months, please send me your email!

In peace, and with a cheerful smile,
Mycah 

P.S. Clearly I had a lot so say other than 'wow'!

Sometimes You Just Have to Accept the Unexpected Stowaways in Life

I have just finished packing a little before midnight on my eve of departure for Chicago, which is not really unusual in my family before a long trip, and everything seems to have been accounted for.  Tomorrow I unbelievably start this amazing year of Mission work by flying to Chicago to join with all the other YAGMs at Orientation, and then in another week straight to Manchester!!  The pouring in of so many words of encouragement, prayers, and loving support has been utterly humbling; allow me to publicly thank everyone who has made this first big step outside of the academic world possible.

As I have been preparing for my upcoming Mission Trip in the UK, my family has been with me every step of the way up until now (well, tomorrow morning).  Of course, they will still be with me in spirit and through handy technology like skype, but in the morning I am giving my last goodbye hugs to my stepdad, my mom, and most importantly my little brother and sister.  These two squirts are so important in my life, I have no idea what I am going to do without a snuggle from my Miah or a funny face contest with my Noah.



Tonight as I was putting the two of them to bed, Noah informed me that he was going to get up early enough to sneak into my luggage and come with me for the next year!  He also had the foresight to remember to bring some clothes so he "Wouldn't have to spend the entire time in the shower while I did laundry so he wouldn't smell."  What a goober!!  Later as I was reorganizing my bags a bit, my mom and I heard rustling in his room.  She went to check and when she came back informed me that he was picking out the clothes he was going to be bringing with him next year and he would be fine just calling his mommy a few times a week instead of living with her.  If I'm not careful, there might be an unexpected stowaway in my luggage come the morning.

But man, if that did not pull at Mom's and my own hearts this evening on top of all the emotions of saying goodbye to each other, I don't know what will.  It got me thinking about all the different kinds of unexpected stowaways we have in our lives.  I am knowingly bringing several people with me in my heart other than my family already.  Several of my good friends who have been nothing but supportive since I mentioned I was applying to YAGM way back in January are pretty prominently tangled in my heartstrings, and I am sure that as I begin this journey more stowaways will show up in my heart that I will miss as this year goes by.

The powerful thing, though, is that I know already that I will miss these people and that is okay.  I have had some pretty big moves throughout my 22 years of life already that put me in places where I had to build up new support systems.  I only had my mom and stepdad when we first moved to Fairfax, Virginia from Marysville, Washington (A hard move at the tender age of 13), and then only some halfway acquaintances when going off to James Madison University straight out of high school.

My mom gave me a card earlier with this story in it, "The weary wind gave up and spoke 'How can you still be standing, Oak?' The oak tree said, 'I know that you can break each branch of mine in two, carry every leaf away, shake my limbs, and make me sway.  But I have roots stretched in the earth, growing stronger since my birth.  You'll never touch them, for you see, they are the deepest part of me.  Until today, I wasn't sure of just how much I could endure.  But now I've found, with thanks to you, I'm stronger than I ever knew."  All of those big moves for me in the past have been their own individual wind, helping me to test the limits of the roots I've already put down, and to sometimes grow anew in amazing ways.

So here I am, on the eve of the next big wind, and I am completely ready deal with the unexpected growth that will come of it.

In Peace and With Love,
Mycah