A Hug Goodbye

This month, February, has a sad undertone for me. It was during the last week of January 2010 that I received the final decision from the Czech government that they no longer wanted me. Not only did they not want me, but they had decreed that by law, I must leave their country within 30 days. I was being deported.

This notification came during one of the busiest times of life at the International Baptist Theological Seminary in Prague, Czech Republic. We had a large number of PhD students on site and I was fully engaged in making sure they were fed, housed, watered, and happy. The notification came as an e-mail attachment.

My Czech language skills were functional enough that I had read through the document and understood that this was not good news. Truly in unbelief, I asked a Czech friend and colleague to come read this letter for me. I was certain that I had misinterpreted it, or that there was a byline I was missing that said, "But it's okay, you may stay."

There wasn't.

I sat in my office chair in shock and pain. February 2010 was hard. Really hard. I had worked (with the help of colleagues) for over a year to apply for visa renewal to remain in the Czech Republic. It was a long and tiring journey to try to right a wrong that was made which turned my position from being legal to illegal. Finally, the word came: "Go home."

Go home? I had been in Europe since 2001. One month after I graduated college I packed up and flew across the Atlantic Ocean to settle in this Central European region. Fully embracing the strange land and culture. I had been there for nearly ten years and transitioned into adulthood in these foreign lands. In a way that I cannot explain Europe had become my home. And I was being kicked out.

My dear loved ones in Prague were gracious, kind, and sincere. The memories of this month are bittersweet. Thankful and painful.

So, today, forgive me if I request an extra hug this month. Forgive me if I there's an underlying sadness in my eyes. Forgive me if I can't explain what is tugging at my heart. There is a mourning process that perhaps will never end. There is something deeper inside that is hard to define or explain, but it's there.

We each have our own struggles and heartbreak. I understand. The month of February, when I request a hug - this is why. That's all. I've a lot of my heart and love in a place and in people whom I cannot wrap my arms around today...

Still Aggravated

I've become increasingly annoyed this week as I visited my blog and was reminded of my experience in a church down the road.

It's possible you may have as well, hence this new post and photo.

Sarka Valley Community Church (SVCC) in Prague, Czech Republic is a community of Christ followers who have a very different (and dare I say much more scriptural!) understanding and practice of the Eucharist than the church I attended this past Sunday.

My final Sunday with SVCC in February 2010 was a day which I hope to never forget. Following a heartfelt sermon from a dear friend, our full attention was drawn to the wine and bread which sat on the table in front of us.

It was a morning which as a church community we gathered around the table to share the Eucharist together. We stood in one circle as was our custom. This allowed me to see and love each sister and brother whom I had worshiped with and befriended over my seven years in Prague.

The prayer and blessing over the bread was beautifully and eloquently made as the loaf was broken and passed from believer to believer. This, followed by the chalice of wine.

A miscommunication regarding the children that Sunday kept them in the service rather than having them dismissed as they normally would have been. Happily, this allowed me to see my Prague Christian family in its fullness around the table of fellowship one final time.

I was honoured to bring before each child a bowl prepared with a mixture of milk and honey. They would not drink the wine as it was passed, but could dip their piece of bread into the milk and honey as a sign of their journey and the promise that they are welcome to into the Kingdom; symbolic of the promise to the Israelites of a Land flowing with milk and honey.

Tears filled my eyes as I moved from child to child, holding the small yellow bowl. My hands trembled from emotion as I encouraged each child to dip their piece of bread in the sweet mixture. Peter, whom a few years back I had visited in the hospital after his birth; Anna, whose family was recently baptised and became members; Maggie, Leo and Marcela who visited faithfully with their parents once a year when their dad came to study at the seminary; Selina, a young girl, who quite quickly moved from a 6 year old in pink ruffled skirts to a teenager with braces and wearing skinny jeans.

These children will never remember that Sunday, but I will never forget it as together with their parents and others in that chapel, we embodied the love and shared the peace of communion together in and with Christ.

The Eucharist is a celebration! It is the very essence and the clearest sign of our Christian communion together, our sharing of the peace and embracing sisters and brothers in genuine love, and of our recognizing and remembering Christ, our Redeemer. It cannot be approached and received in this 'fast-food' manner, as a dear friend below has stated. It's not the hasty distribution of plastic two-for-one cups, to be consumed quickly so as to not take time away from the worship songs and the message.

The Eucharist is the message.

Kýrie, eléison

Triple Grrr with a Smile

My bike has successfully arrived from Prague via Edinburgh. (long story) Today I picked it up from the bike shop who over the weekend put it all back in to something that looks like a bike. While there I asked about a bike map for the area. There are none. Oh there WAS one, but that was years ago and they no longer exist. Grrr.

Throwing rubbish out in Prague was compartmentalised: plastic, paper, glass, tetra packs, metal, compost and general waste. It became second nature to place things in their separate colour-coded bins to be collected by our big trucked and smelly waste collectors. Outside my apartment is one large brown, throw-everything medal garbage tank. I'm told down the road I can recycle paper and cardboard. Plastic, glass, tin...? Grrr.

My little Honda will only take around 65$ for the little ding to be dinged back into place. I'm very happy for that. The bike shop took more from me for putting my bike back together. Grrr.

BUT, even with the triple-grrr above, I'm extremely happy. I had a wonderful evening bike ride exploring just a bit of my area. Sitting on my patio watched a hummingbird come to taste my hanging flowers, witnessed my chipmunk doing his evening chores and simply sat and enjoyed the beauty of nature around me. I'm happy and content and extremely thankful. (While ignoring the dirty dishes in the sink from Sunday!)

Not-so Cheesy idea

Living in Europe I've been introduced to many unique ways of preparing and consuming food!
A favourite has become the above pictured Raclette grill. I can't even type these words without salivating!

Indigenous to Switzerland, this is a table-top grill on which strips of bacon, sliced mushrooms and whatever you can imagine cooks slowly on your small paddle based first with fatty (specifically raclette) cheese.

Whilst its cooking in front of you, you slowly sip your chilled white wine telling stories and simply delighting in each others company. After all has cooked to your liking, you slide the paddle's yummy contents onto a small roasted potato and start over.

I'm already reserving one for my table in heaven!

But until then... upon settling into an apartment in the states and immediately after securing a dining room table the Raclette grill will surely follow!