all the feelings

 I’m scared. I’m scared to move back to the  United States – which are seemingly far from united. I’ve got that churn-y feeling in my stomach when I think about it too much. I want so badly to hug my mom, and see my dad build a fire in the fire place,  and watch my parents cook together, laugh and watch Friends with my sister, and tease my brother and brother-in-law. I can’t wait to dance in celebration and grief over all the things that have happened this past year with the people I love. I’ll get to hold my friends’ babies, gab about nonsensical pop-culture happenings, cry and laugh, and eat burgers and cheese and biscuits, but I’m still filled with a deep sadness when thinking of leaving this life in Bangkok.

I’ll be ushered back into the States in the most perfect of ways: smack-dab in the middle of Fall, my favorite season. There’ll be pumpkins and mums, cornhusks and festivals, spiced cider and pumpkin spiced everything. I’ll wear my favorite sweater with my Bean Boots and the prospect of a sweaty forehead and damp hair will be a million miles away – but man, it will hurt. It will be beautiful and painful. I’ll ache for my life in Bangkok. I’ll miss hearing rapid-fire Thai spoken all around me. I’ll miss eating 25 cent bags of cutup watermelon 3 times a day. I’ll long to hear my roommate, Olivia shriek with joy and hear my Thai name yelled at me from across the market by my Thai mom, Tukta. My friends’ faces who are in the detention center will run through my mind while I’m trying to decide which yogurt to buy at the supermarket, and I’ll start weeping, and my hand will come to my chest because my heart just quivered, and my breath will stop for 4 seconds or so. I’m grieving the ending of this time and, will continue to do so – and it will be hard. 

It’s a gift, isn’t it, to be sad about leaving a place – to dread it a bit. That means that there’s been love and joy and roots and laughter and friendships. There’s been a fair amount of chaos, and lots of unlearning and learning. There’s been hurt feelings and hard conversations and clipped words and unhealthy communication. I’ve had to put my big-girl panties on and own my feeling and thoughts and story.  I’ve had to stare in the face my proclivity towards comfort and my tendency to live out of scarcity – believing time, love, food, sweat rags, books, money, hope, or fired bananas are scarce.

So many humans have given me the gift of being apart of their lives. I’ve gotten to cheer on the kids who are apart of our education program as they grow in knowledge and confidence. I’ve heard stories of horror, fierce perseverance, grave disappointment, and sheer joy from refugees and asylum seekers in the detention center. I’ve gotten to dance and laugh with my students and friends and colleagues and strangers. People from all over the world (40ish countries) have come to my rescue in someway or another – from offering friendship to doing emergency translation – folks from every continent (except Antartica). 

The world is huge  – there are so many people and cultures and languages -but the more I journey on, the more the truth that we are all connected is reinforced. No matter where I went in Bangkok, from language school with affluent business associates to the detention center with prisoners – everyone, all of us, yearns and aches to know that we are the beloved – now and always.

I am so grateful for my time with Creative Life Foundation. I have vacillated between being adamant about staying in BKK, and holding hope for what could be next in the States. They’ve weathered it all with me. That’s what we need – people to weather it all with us – people who stick around when we’re crabby, confused, and tearful. We need people in our corner and at our table. I’ve had that – and man, has it been good (like old testament, right-relationship, Genius – good). 

My primary mode of processing life is through my feelings. I’m a feeler. So, in a couple weeks if you see me crying at the grocery store or in your church or at your dinner table it’s because it hurts like hell (sorry, mom) and it was so, so good. I am not perfect, and this past year was not perfect. It was messy, but I was alive. So, I’ll fight to be alive in the States. I’ll fight to keep my hands and my heart unclenched, and I’ll fight to open my life, and my home (okay, my parents home), and my exceptions of vocation. It’ll be all the things – hard, messy, beautiful, sometimes ugly, and full of dancing. 

This is my favorite prayer, lately. It’s from Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. 

Lord, help me know to unclutter my life, 

to organize myself in the direction of simplicity. 

Lord, teach me to listen to my heart;

teach me to welcome change, instead of fearing it. 

Lord, I give you these stirrings inside me, 

I give you my discontent, 

I give you my restlessness, 

I give you my doubt, 

I give you my despair,

I give you all the longings I hold inside. 

Help me to listen to these signs of change, of growth;

to listen seriously and follow where they lead

through the breathing empty space of an open door. 

Amen. 

Thank you. 

Long Live the Beatles

My Last time at PEC 

Standing in my backyard, five feet from my swing set, I said out loud to myself that I was going to be a doctor when I grew up. I was seven years old. At eleven, I wrote and pretended to broadcast fake news stories, and had dreams of playing basketball on North Carolina’s court with Michael Jordan. At 18, when I moved into my dorm room, my plan was to be a sports journalist covering the Atlanta Braves. As I type these words, I’m 31 years old, and I have endless dreams taking place in a thousand different lands. I’ve never known a time without a dream. 

I’ve written about the Prappadaeng English Club (PEC) and scholarship program that I oversee in the this space before. I wrote about the kids and their infectious dance moves. It’s taken me a bit of time to see that what we’re investing in is the possibility of dreams for the kids. It’s a privilege to dream – to hold space for what could be; to see beyond what’s in right in front of you. 

Currently, there are six scholarship students. Soon, we hope to add two more. The monthly scholarship the kids receive helps take some financial pressure off of their families, but it also ensures that the students can still attend school and dream of what could be. 

Two of the students are in college. One of them has hopes of running a business to employ members of her community, and the other is studying a variety of different subjects to see what sparks her soul. 

If the students didn’t have the additional educational support, their families would be in a more financially vulnerable state, possibly forcing the kids to earn an income instead of continuing to learn in the classroom, but the truth is is that it’s not just the money that sustains their education – really – it’s the community. 

Khun Plaa, the extraordinary human who started this program, has built and fostered community in and around her church. She started opening the church on Saturdays so that the kids could have a space to color, build with blocks, play the guitar, run around in an air conditioned room and eat snacks. 

Yes, the kids need additional educational support, but they also need community. A community to love them when life is messy and hard. A community to cheer at their music recitals, listen to them talk about their lives, and create safe space for them to be whomever they are.

Really, we all need that, right? We need people to champion our dreams, listen to our deepest fears and joys and give us ice cream just because. You know that Beatles song, I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends? The title of that song is the thesis of my life. It’s also true for PEC, and all other parts of CLF. We can’t do it alone. None of us. We need community, and sometimes we need extra funds to help make our dreams come true.  PEC gets buy with a little help from our scholarship sponsors from around the world and the sheer holy gumption of Khun Plaa. 

It’s been an honor to watch these kids grow and dance through the year. I am so grateful. 

There are students who still need an education sponsor. If you have the financial margins and desire to become a sponsor, please email me at etmiller23(at)gmail.com.