How I learned about My Whiteness: Lessons from Living Overseas

Let me start by this: As a white person, I'm not totally sure how to approach this topic. As someone who was a missionary, I am all too aware of the "white savior complex" and desire desperately to avoid it. I am also aware how naive and honestly quite terrible I may look in some of these stories. Yet, I also know that I have a lot of white friends who haven't confronted and experienced race in a similar way as to what I have, and I want to speak to them. To tell stories and analyze how I'm learning and growing so as to help them learn and grow. And again forgive me for my overt use of my white privilege, but I think to really understand our issue at hand, that can not be swept under the rug either.

Just a little background, in case your friend shared this and you don't really know me. Until this year, I had spent the last 4 years of my life living in the Philippines. I am what you might call exceptionally white; fair skin, blue eyes, and light brown hair that for many years streaked itself blonde as it was exposed to a lot of sunlight. I can't achieve a tan if I wanted to, not even under the hot equator sun that left most of the Filipinos I lived among a mocha-y brown or darker. Sometimes my Pinoy friends would joke with me about what color coffee everyone's skin was, ranging from "hold the cream and sugar" to my laughable "only cream and sugar". I like to think that's because they think I'm so sweet rather than the color of my skin, but I digress.

I also taught at an international school, where most of the teachers were white, but most of our students were not. About 70% of my kids were Korean, with some Hispanics and some white Americans and Europeans in the mix.

During my first year teaching, I went on a trip with my school called Outdoor Education. For middle school, it's a mix of Christian summer camp meets mission trip. I was a leader of a group of girls and I noticed that one of my Korean students slowed the group down by putting on sunscreen too often. Although it was my role to make sure they reapplied sunscreen at appropriate levels during the day, her usage of sunscreen felt obsessive. And I found every opportunity I could to tell her that. This lead to a very real conversation that has been repeated to me several times since, "I'm trying to keep my skin light Miss Leneway. The lighter your skin is, the more beautiful you are." I've tried to tell my kids that's funny because in the culture I come from, people lie out in the sun for hours working on making themselves dark because browned skin is beautiful. I guess what I've failed to notice though is that what Americans really value is brown, but not too brown. And even now that makes me sad. The same way it made me sad every time I had those conversations with my kids, knowing full well their culture would never allow them to feel beautiful.

During this same time period, my white skin outside of the school had really become a nuisance. It's not that I was treated badly because of it. Quite the opposite. I had an essentially celebrity-like status and felt like I lived under a constant microscope because of it. People would openly gawk at me on the streets. Taxi drivers would constantly offer their hand in marriage. I remember one time, I went to a waterfall with some of my local friends to enjoy the day swimming and exploring. A group of us went up a path exploring towards the top of the waterfall. I got stopped along the way by someone who insisted I take a picture with them, not giving me another option. One of my friends noticed about 5 minutes later and came back for me (after they finally realized I had gotten pulled away from the group).When they saw the hold up, they laughed without end until I told them that this happened to me constantly and I was tired of it. I was tired of being paraded on stranger's Facebook profiles as white arm candy. I was tired of the constant limelight I got solely for the color of my skin. My friends were shocked to hear that this happened to me quite often and this wasn't just a weird incident.

And so I was torn. My white skin gave me a platform unlike any other, but for all the wrong reasons. I was sick and tired of being the object of attention, but also know that my behavior reflected the Christian missionary community at large (even if you weren't part of it, that's the assumption when you're white in the Philippines).

The best way we found to deal with it was to joke about it and at least get some advantages out of it, if my skin color was going to hang out and be so annoying all of the time. I got pulled over for making an illegal left-turn once. I was actually a dumb American at this point and for that reason alone, got away with just a warning. I unjustly took away the lesson then that I could probably use that logic during any part of my stay and they would never fact check me on it. Not that I ever used this to do more than jay walk and occasionally go a few kilometers over the speed limit (it's not like traffic allowed for more). We joked when we saw men staring about which one of us Greek goddesses they were staring at this time. We sometimes used our "whiteness" to our advantage, but when little girls said in the streets, "You're beautiful", we always stopped to tell them, "You are too". Sometimes I proudly add, I said this sloppily in Cebuano. After all, "gwapa" (beautiful/hot/handsome) and "puti" (white) were some of the first Cebnuano words I learned. Because I constantly heard people saying that around me or yelling that about me. However, as much as we wanted to break these cultural beauty perceptions, anything we could do felt futile as a dropping the contents of our water bottle in the large Pacific Ocean we lived on the coast of.

You get used to it eventually. And you accept that there are things you can't change. And you get tired of trying to do anything about it, because it will inevitably fail. Yet, I have one more story.

During my last year overseas, I took a vacation with two of my close Filipina friends and another white girl friend. On this vacay, we went to a waterfall/public pool place. At the gate of entrance, you had to pay to get in. When my other white girl friend and I passed through the gates, we were told a higher price than our friends had been. We questioned it, and they told us that it was the foreigner price. Our friends got the local price. Knowing it wasn't worth it to make a scene, and that we wouldn't get in without paying it, we forked over the money. As we kept walking, my Filipina friend who was right behind us, went into a loooooonnnnngggg rant in Cebuano at the lady. Although I had walked away, when she got to us she was noticeably shaking in anger at how we had been treated. We didn't get the extra pesoes we paid back, but I won't forget how someone stood up for me that day. How someone of a different skin color didn't ignore injustice I faced when she herself didn't (although mind you it was tiny injustice in comparison to what people of other skin colors face). That I had an ally who was part of the system that often made me feel so different.

I come from middle class, white America and I know many of my readers do too. Maybe you haven't ever had to think about what it means to be a white American, what unique privileges you have that many other Americans don't. Maybe you think it's okay to be "colorblind" and say "all lives matter", because you haven't ever known what it is to be on the part of the race that is seen as different by the culture you're in. That is discriminated against and treated differently solely based on the color of your skin. And it's okay that you haven't experienced the world of being the "other". The last thing we need is to feel guilty about that and just end up consoling each other over white guilt. I am tempted to face this even as I write this, knowing that I will never understand what real oppression is due to my race.

But I do want to be more like my friend. Because I know what a big difference it made in my heart to see someone fight for me, even though the struggle was not their own. I think that it's important in the face of the innocent death of George Floyd and the resulting protests around the country to realize this problem won't be fought and won until it's fought by all of us. Injustice is wrong, even when it doesn't affect you. So speak up. March. Protest.

But most importantly, don't just let this be a moment in time. If you see someone being treated unfairly in the future, stand up for them. Speak on their behalf. Because I can only imagine they're tired of fighting alone in a system that feels like it resists change with its very heart. And I use those words carefully because ultimately, that's where racism lies. Deep down in the crevices of our hearts that we barely acknowledge ourselves, let alone hope others see. It's time to look within at our own stories about how we've come to experience the color of our skin. It's time for both self-awareness and also awareness of others that it's all too easy to turn our heads to  and ignore. And as we examine these stories, it's time to look for ways to change the narrative.




*I'm considering writing my next blog about how to learn about people in different cultures, which I believe is integral to all of this. So stay tuned for that.   
**Also I know that I'm not perfect and I have work of my own to do on this. But hey, the important thing is that we're taking steps in this journey.

We're not living under Martial Law...Trust me I have

Day 586 of quarantine...or so it feels. In the time of COVID-19, we're longing to go back to normal. A time when we can once again gather in groups, dine in our favorite restaurants, cheer for our favorite sports teams, and visit with grandma and grandpa in their homes. In the state I live in, Michigan, the shut down has been fairly strict compared to anything the average American has lived through. Although restrictions have lifted slightly, Governor Whitmer recently extended the State of Emergency yesterday. This was meet with gun-toting protesters. The pictures of this saddened my heart to an extent I can't express.

Michiganders are split on two sides of a fence, one that welcomes the Stay-At-Home order as a necessary step to protect the community, and the other that sees it as a threat to the freedoms that Americans hold oh so dear. There have been protests. There have been pleas from both sides of the issue to think reasonably and rationally. There have even been comments saying this was like the gateway to martial law. Well, I've lived under martial law and I figured this was a great opportunity to share what that experience was like for me.

If you haven't followed my story, until this year, I had spent the last 4 years living in the Philippines on an island called Mindanao. About three out of those four years I lived under martial law. Not a fact that you share with people back home when you don't want them to worry and/or you want them to let you stay. So many of you might not have realized I even lived under martial law. Well let me explain the circumstances leading up to this before I explain what it was like (as one of the rare Americans who have actually lived under such circumstances).

Quick geography lesson: Mindanao is almost 40,000 sq. miles, or roughly the same size as the lower peninsula of Michigan. I lived in a  city called Davao in the south. It is the major city of the island, and the fourth most populated city in the whole Philippines. It is the home of the current president, President Rodrigo Duterte, the only president who has come from anywhere besides Manila essentially. President Duterte was elected into office during my first year there and remains current president. The island, Mindanao, has a long history of violence between the Muslim and non-Muslims in the north and west portions of the island.

Map of Mindanao for reference

In the fall of 2016, a night market called Roxas street was bombed. Roxas was a popular nightlife destination and a place I had been several times, drinking mango smoothies with friends while riffling through fake knock-off clothes. A couple of friends had been there on the night of the bombing just an hour before the bomb went off. While I remained safely tucked in my bed this night, this was only a mile and a half from my house. I discovered this in the morning when I woke up to Facebook asking me to check in that I was safe. I remember scrolling through the news on my phone that morning trying to quickly piece together what was happening. Looking back on Facebook to see that other friends had checked in as safe as well.

I was an assistant coach to the volleyball team during this season and our game was cancelled that morning due to safety concerns of letting visitors on campus. Living just around the corner though, I decided to mosey on over though to see that all players had gotten the message and then head over my classroom to busy myself with some work. There was one player there, my ferocious senior outside hitter. As we talked about what happened, she was nothing more than a scared child that morning. And so was I.

Threats loomed in the city for a week or so after. My friends and I avoided all malls (the center of all activities in the city) and crowded areas. Thankfully no other violence took place and eventually life settled back in to normal. A state of emergency was declared and checkpoints were set up to search vehicles coming into the city. The Islamic extremist group Abu Sayaaf took responsibility for the bomb as an affront to their displeasure with President Duterte, although later it was discovered that it was really a sympathetic group.

Things got quiet for a while and besides the checkpoints, life went back to normal. But the violence on Mindanao was not done.

Tensions between Abu Sayaaf and the administration continued. In May 2017, Abu Sayaaf took the entire city of Marawi hostage. Marawi is near Iligan if you look back at my map, about 8 hours northwest of Davao. This is like saying it happened in Traverse City and I lived in Detroit. The first thing they took was a hospital, but they eventually infiltrated the whole city killing when they saw fit and taking many more hostages. The army would come in to try and liberate the city. This conflict would last 5 months. I can't even imagine what it was like to be those people trapped in the city fearing for there lives. It was shortly after this event started that martial law was declared on Mindanao.

This declaration of martial law was met with a similar feelings as Michigan's stay at home order is. There were a lot of critics, but also many who welcomed it. What was interesting was it was not Mindanao where it was opposed. It was in the other parts of the Philippines. The parts that were already safe. Where martial law didn't really affect them, besides the precedent they were afraid it would set. I see the same thing here in Michigan. It is not the front-line health care workers or essential workers that are striking. They know better. They see the tragedy playing out right before them and wish it on none of us. My best friend works at a hospital. She currently spends most of her shifts in the morgue. It is also not the elderly and those with autoimmune diseases.  The people in real danger are not speaking up against this Stay-at-Home order. But similar to Mindanao, the people in real danger mostly welcomed it.

Martial law actually didn't change much in my life. We did have to cancel any trips out of the city. This included us as a school scraping our plans for our Outdoor Education trip, an annual outreach trip that was often a highlight of the school year. We pulled together something in the city in the 2 weeks of planning we had, but it was pretty terrible compared to the experience of getting away. Also any weekend getaways, which were always fantastic as Mindanao has a wealth of nature to explore, had to be postponed for quite a while. Checkpoints were increased and seeing armed military guards became the normal. But it was not the brutal martial law of the past. It was not a government overreach seeking to control and terrorize its people. Instead it felt like an act of compassion from our President, showing that he stood with us and was going to protect us at whatever cost. While I don't agree with everything President Duterte has done, I do appreciate this act of support he gave us.

I've heard Michigan's Stay at Home order compared to martial law, and I just want to say "Don't". While you are asked to stay at home, you face no real consequences for your disobedience. Military is not lining the streets nor are officers sending you home when they see you out. This is not martial law.

Well I tell this story, there's so much I want Michigan to hear. I want them to know that while this is devastating on the economy (and so was martial law), sometimes saving lives is more important. I want you to know that while staying at home sucks, the people in real danger (like me) are grateful for it. Although I am lucky to have a job where I can work from home for the rest of the school year at least, I can't even imagine if Michigan reopening meant me going back to work right now. And having that hard choice of going to work and into danger every day or staying at home while my job which I love was forced to replace me as they go on with normal.

In America, freedom is a core value. And I get that that is important. But I think that people's lives are pretty important too. And I'm willing to let go of my right to do whatever I want to value life first. I'll pray the government makes wise choices in this impossible situation. But ultimately, I need to give a show of trust in them believing that they are not seeking to harm us until they prove otherwise. And I'd like to invite you to as well.



Disclaimer: I'm not looking to start any arguments here. I just wanted to share a different experience that I have that might give a different perspective on what is going on right now. I also want to outright state my bias in this situation: I am the vulnerable that we're seeking to protect. Earlier this year, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder after spending much of the year in the hospital and am currently on immune suppressants. I also am lucky enough to have a job that allows me to work from home. My heart goes out to those of you that aren't so lucky.

COVID-19 as a Tool to Reevaluate our Use of Time (From someone who's spent the last 6 months self-quarantined)

As I write this, it's day 5 since the Governor of Michigan declared all schools would be closed and social isolation began to slow the spread of COVID-19. Over the last few days, how serious this time of quarantine is to be has greatly escalated. Restaurants have moved to carry out only and most businesses that are service-orientated have shut down. We've been instructed to not meet in groups of over 250, then 50, and as of most currently not over 10. And when we do meet, keep our social distance of 6 feet.

This isn't just the case for Michigan though, but this is happening all over the world. I video chatted with my old roommate from Davao City (in the Philippines) and she said that the city was in lockdown mode. People were instructed not to leave their houses except for the grocery store and certain essential personal for work. So we, as a world, are all in this together.

As many are now saying, we live in unprecedented times. What does one do without the busyness of work and the normal schedule of activities? When the structure that we built our life around just disappears? For me, this actually isn't unprecedented but has been a big part of this last year. I just got back to work after a 4 month long sick leave where my life shut down before and I was living in my own sense of quarantine and social isolation. And I don't think I did it well before (I mostly watched a ton of Netflix), so I've been spending a lot of time over the last few days thinking about how I want to do this now during the second time around.

Now the first question on everyone's mind is what to do with all this time you suddenly gained? Well, let me share with you pieces of my Quarantine To-Do List. I'm going to finally decorate my apartment (it's really been a crazy year). So do that project you've been putting off. I'm going to read a book. I'm actually about halfway through my first book already, it's been so refreshing to read. I plan on learning more about online teaching tools to help prepare for the rest of the school year (my district is currently just off for the next three weeks, but I have a feeling we'll move to online as I think the quarantine will last longer). I'm going to finally set up a budget for living in America (I think I've finally stopped thinking in pesos so now is the time to do that).

In addition, at my church that met virtually this Sunday, we were left with this challenge of how we could be intentional about connecting with others during this time of social isolation. We're made to live in community and with technology, social isolation doesn't need to be a time of total isolation. One thing I'm doing is setting up a virtual game night with friends who live far away and we normally don't get to spend time together. If you're interested in how we're doing that we'll play Codenames sharing a board on our screens and video chat at the same time. I'm actually super excited for this. I'm also super open for Skype dates (okay, more Facebook messenger video) and have taken time to schedule those with dear friends that it's usually hard to get our schedules to line up. I've also found ways to share my expertise of teaching and help others who, all of a sudden, have their kids at home and have to play a big role in their education. So it's good to think about how you're being intentional to connect with and love on others during this time. In the face of hard times, how are we promoting love and hope, and maybe even cherishing this time as a gift?

I'm also considering how I can use this time to intentionally grow my relationship with God. If my excuse for not is normally a lack of time, well, I don't really have that excuse anymore. And neither do you. I already had decided for Lent that I was going to read the story of Jesus in Gethsemane as a way to just meditate on it. Now I'm considering memorizing it. It seems fitting after all to consider Jesus's attitude and way of preparing as he faced what would be his most trying hour. I'm pulling out my uke and spending a little time each day in worship. I don't know about you, but music tends to re-orientate my heart and remind me of what's important. In particular, I've decided the classic "Give me Jesus" would be an anthem that I give special attention to during this time. I want to sing them until the words ring true in my life "You can have all this world, just give me Jesus" since it seems like my whole world was just rapidly taken away and I want to take the posture of being okay with that. Of realizing I already have what's most important. I also, as of today, decided that I'd start listening to a podcast that the Bible Project put out about the Sabbath. It's about 14 one hour long episodes and can be found on Spotify. The Sabbath has been a theme that keeps coming up in my life as something I should probably see as important since partway through college and I think this is the perfect time to dig into that.

Now this is the point I was going to rant some on how this time of forced slow down and rest should lead us to evaluate how we can incorporate the idea of rhythm and rest better into our daily lives. How we can honor the very biblical idea of Sabbath in that way. But then I said, "Dang it Kacie, we're in the middle of a global pandemic! Your reader doesn't need to be chastised with a lengthy rant on how we all do a terrible job keeping the Sabbath."

So I guess I just want to give this questions to ponder instead:
1. During this time of slow down, what's been nice about how you're able to spend your time? Did you finally get time to read books, spend with your family, go for walks, etc.? How can you make time for more things like that in your every day life?
2. What do you really miss about meeting with others? How can you give special importance to those things after this time of quarantine is over?
3. Are there things you don't miss doing? This is me giving you permission to give those things up after this is over too. (Unless it's your job. You should probably keep that.)
4. How do you want a spirit of intentionality to carry over from this time of forced shut down into your normal every day life? What things are you becoming intentional about doing during this time and what does that look like when social distancing ends?

I think if anything this time reflects for many of us a time of Sabbath, a time to slow down, to rest, to see that life goes on without us working tirelessly to make it. Let's use that time wisely to reconnect with ourselves, with others, and with God.

In Sickness and In Health: Lessons about God through Sickness

For those of you that don't know, I've been fairly sick for the past few months. More specifically, it all started about a year ago when I got sick which led to an appendectomy done in the Philippines. Perhaps the most fun story of that experience was the surgeon brought out my appendix to show my friends, even offering to let them keep it. Anyway, we're almost a year later and I've had 5 hospital stays resulting in close to 50 days in the hospital during my 27th year of life. I've had infection after infection and been diagnosed with Chron's disease as the underlying villain of our story. 

I started a new job in September only to leave abruptly at the start of October for a hospital stay. I haven't yet been able to return to this job. 

So what have I learned in all this? What is God teaching me? 

Well, I'll be honest that hasn't been the forefront of my thoughts the past few months as I've been ill. I've been more Netflix and naps than prayer and reflection. But now that I'm starting to feel better, I've started to think and reflect on what God might be at work teaching me. 

Lesson #1:Trust the Heart

My home nurse was talking to me one day and asking me about if I was feeling depressed or hopeless. Thankfully the answer is no. I can't say I haven't been angry with God from time to time. Or that I haven't felt like maybe the situation just wasn't going to improve and I'd have to accept that this was my lot in life. Or that I felt like going through this right after coming home from serving as a missionary was unfair (ok, super unfair...after all God, did you see what I did for you?....*cough, cough* working on pride *cough cough*). But I never felt hopeless and depressed in the general sense. I still had a general sense of contentment and still for the most part held my joy. And the home nurse said that was super impressive considering most people would be struggling with their mental health after all that I've been through. 

So why wasn't I? I've seen God use the worst storms of my life for His glory. He's used every bad circumstance and redeemed it. He indeed makes beautiful things out of the dust. So I trust He can do it again. Because He has been faithful. And He will be faithful again. Because that's who He is. That's what He does. 

A song that I've been holding onto during this time is the song "Weep with Me" by Rend Collective Experience. I highly recommend you look it up. Anyways a line that has been especially dear to me is "What's true in the light is true in the dark/You're good and you're kind and you care for this heart". God's heart doesn't change and He has been so very good to me in life. His character is my hope. This trial will end and until it does I can sit with the most loving person I can dream of and remember that He does indeed care for my heart. 

Lesson #2: Desperation

It was November and I was back in the hospital again. I had returned to the ER after only being out of the hospital for a month. A surgeon was discussing potential options with me. One of the more drastic options was an ileostomy. This is where they divert your small intestines by pulling a piece out of your stomach wall. This allows your poop to divert from going through the rest of your intestines, allowing them to rest and heal. But the poop does need to go somewhere so you wear a bag on the front of your body that collects it. Exit medical tangent left. 

As we discussed this potential poop bag of an option, the surgeon said, "Take some time and think about it. I know it's not an attractive option, but it might help." And I replied, "Sir, if it will make me feel better please do it. No thought required. I'm desperate." And I really was. No matter how crappy the option was (pun intended), if it would make me better I wanted it. 

I've recently related this to my spiritual life. Why do I not bring the same sense of desperation? Sin is a disease, yet I don't bring the same "by any means necessary" mentality to bring about it's eradication. Why do I not bring the same desperation to growing to be more like Jesus, to growing more in the fruit of the spirit? It takes long-suffering (aka pain and/or annoyance) to grow in patience after all. My faith life at times can be meager at best but yet I don't bring the same desperation to fix it. And considering how important it is, I should be even more so longing to cure this sickness in my heart than I am to cure the sickness in my body. I pray that God would grow this desperation in me. 

Lesson #3: My strength may fail

For the proud at heart, 'nuff said. This has been humbling me and making me ask for help of others. Making me realize I need to rely on God's strength because I'm finally at the point I can't get by on my own. I think once I asked God to knock down my pride a notch. This was in no way how I intended God to answer that prayer. 

Lesson #4: Oceans

Speaking of prayers, the song "Oceans (Where feet may fail)" by Hillsong United came on my Spotify the other day. When I was preparing to be a missionary this song was so dear to my heart as a prayer to me. I heard it the other day through fresh ears. 

So let me quick walk you through the bridge, the words that repeat and managed to hit me a little bit deeper each time.

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

This prayer can't be limited to foreign countries. But to truly have a trust without borders, I have to accept that may even lead me into sickness. Into times of hurt that are completely crumby. And if I can't accept that, I haven't reached the place where my trust is without borders. 

 

Let me walk upon the waters wherever you would call me

Wherever. Again, even here. True story, when Peter went to walk upon the waters a storm raged. Jesus didn't even calm the storm before calling Peter out of the boat. Nor did he calm it after Peter panicked and started to sink. It wasn't until after Jesus got in the boat that he let the storm calm. In fact, laughably, when he first sees the disciples terrified in the boat, he does nothing to calm it. He just says "Don't be afraid". And yet, he could have at any of these points lessened their fear by calming that stupid storm. Perhaps though he knows that a greater trust is born during the storm.

What I find most interesting about this story though is that the reason the disciples were in the storm though is because Jesus sent them in the boat to the other side. Jesus sent them on the lake knowing full well that by doing so, he was sending them straight into a storm. And I need to trust that in my life, this sickness is a place Jesus has called me to grow that greater trust. It is not by accident I am in this circumstance. 

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

What a stinkin' dangerous prayer I prayed. This for sure is deeper than my feet would voluntarily wander. Thereby, deeper than they could ever wander on their own. 

And my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior

This is the goal then, isn't it? That in all of this my faith would be stronger. Because whether I see it or not now, my Savior is here. He sits with me in my sickness. He strengthens me and stretches my faith in this whole process in a way that He never could in my wellness. 

I now can't believe I sung along to this song and prayed such dangerous prayers. 

Lesson #5: I am loved

Not just by God, but my support system here and across the globe runs deep. This trial has reminded me of your love for me as my dear friends and family as so many have reached out to check in or tell me they're praying. This has been so important as I have moved back and away from my super awesome network of support I've relied on in the Philippines for the past four years. I moved back feeling afraid of being alone and isolated, but throughout this I feel so connected and loved. 

In Sum...

I say that I learned all these lessons, but I know that these are the lessons God is working on currently with me. My head is starting to get it, but they are now ,and will continue to be, working their way deeper into my heart. 

Pray for me. Not just for my health, but my heart. That God would be ingraining these lessons deeper and deeper into my being. Pray also for my platform. This trial has been visible to others in ways that most trials are not and I think that puts it in amazing position for God to use it. Pray that this would be a stage for me to speak of God's goodness and that my attitude amidst the mess would point others to Him. 

Home for the Holidays?

For the first time in 3 years, it's Christmas eve and I'm sitting at my parents house waiting to begin an eventful day of festivity (never mind that it's 6am and I've already been up for 3 hours, silly jet lag). For the last 3 years, I've celebrated Christmas from where I live afar at my house in the Philippines. It's only this year as my family is in the middle of big changes that I felt like I couldn't miss did I bite the bullet and buy a plane ticket.

One of those changes is my new little niece aka the super cute munchkin friend shown below:

This year my grandma also died and I felt like the combination of these things meant I really needed to come and be with my family.

It's been really nice to come back to traditions and familiarity. Now mind you, I've enjoyed learning about Christmas in my host country and been very thankful for the friends who have taken me in over holidays, but there's nothing like what you grew up with. Whilst away, my heart longed to bake cookies with mom and watch Rudolph while drinking hot chocolate and snuggling on the couch with my fam. And from the time of absence, this is all the more sweet this year.

In many ways, this cozy house in Michigan where my family has lived for the past 30 years (at least I think that's how long it is now) is home. It's where I've made all of these memories, it's the place that is continuously filled with family and love, etc etc. However, I've also been realizing over these last few days especially that it's changing rapidly without me there. Some of the changes have really startled me this holiday season as I am looking to steep myself into the traditions I remember and everyone else has seemed to realize the necessary changes before I was hit with the surprise of it all (like my one year old niece gets to put some of my favorite ornaments on our tree....what gives mom???). But for real, home is a rapidly changing thing and you don't realize that until you've stepped away for a while and then re-enter that picture after some time. It's easier to see growth and change when you're not growing and changing with it.

But that's not to say that my parent's house still doesn't feel like home....because it very much does.

But over the last few days, I've been very reminded that that is not my only home.

Back in Davao, where I live, tragedy has been striking over the last few days.

One of the locations around the city where people who have been temporarily displaced from their homes due to flooding are staying

Tropical storm Vinta has hit, leaving the city fairly flooded (for those that will ask, my house is okay because we live on a very high hill).

A number of people climbing on a jeepney waiting for help

If that weren't enough, a fire also broke out burning down a 4 story mall, trapping 37 inside and killing them.

As I've followed these stories from afar, scrolling Facebook searching for signs and getting message updates from friends, my heart has been breaking for my city. As I paced the floor this morning, coping with my jet lagginess I found my heart and prayers flying out to that home of mine and the people who are there. The people that are struggling right now as I'm cozying in with my family. I've already seen pictures of my friends lending a hand in flood clean up and relief and a part of me thinks I really should be there. I wish I wasn't away from my city in its time of need. Yet I see the posts of how we are "Davao strong" and "Dabawenyos will rally back, because we are a people of resilience" and I know that's true. And I've also found myself nodding like "Yeah, that is us. We will be okay."

And as I look back at that last paragraph, this is starting to explain where my dilemma of "home" comes in. I feel for "my city" and I feel the unity of us being "Davao strong". As I sit at my Michigan house, wrapped in blankets, my heart tears for my Filipino home that is wrapped in tragedy. And when I'm there, my heart often misses the ones I hold dear here. Over the last few days, I've been reminded more than ever that "home" is really both places. Home is here, but it's also there. And as some people have asked me "Aren't you glad to be home for now instead of over there?", I am starting to feel slightly offended. I'm glad to be in Michigan, but I'm also glad to be there. And this "home" concept you speak of....it's both. 

Be keeping my city in your prayers as we continue to recover and rebuild.

And enjoy your holiday....I hope you find yourself at "home" wherever you might happen to be!

While America celebrates Halloween...

Over the last few days, my Facebook feed has been filled with pictures of my friends in Halloween costumes. Taking their kids trick or treating, workplace costume parties, and other general Halloween shenanigans are a common reason to dress up like something you're not, eat lots of candy and have fun. As I look at the photos, I've chuckled to myself at some of my friends' witty costumes and wondered what I would be if I were back in the States.

In the Philippines, Halloween isn't the holiday of October 31st. Instead it's All Soul's Day. It's not just a name change either, but a meaning change. How All Soul's Day is celebrated is people go to the graves of their loved ones and eat their favorite foods, hang out with family and essentially party all through the night. The belief is to honor those ancestors that have passed and to bless them with their favorite things since they are stuck there in the grave. So October 31st, the graveyards are filled. It's essentially one big party, complete with cotton candy vendors and children running around with glowsticks.

A few days before, I asked my Filipino friend if she would go to the graveyard for that day. She said, "No, I know their body may stay in the grave, but I their soul doesn't so what's the point?" My friend speaks from the hope of Christianity. The hope is that the grave is not the end for us, but all people have a final destination after: heaven or hell. As a Christian, we look forward to the hope of glory that is heaven someday.

While in American Christianity we look for the same hope, I think it's less pronounced when there's not that cultural thing for it to be so different from. We stand brightest and most clear when our culture gives us a reason to stand out and stand apart.

So I stand reminded that my soul has a home. It's not this body nor the grave. My family won't have to visit me one day after I'm six feet deep nor leave my favorite food for me. Because someday, I'll be in Heaven celebrating at the Great Wedding Feast, where I'm sure my favorite food will already be in abundance and the company will be out of this world.

Poodles and Pitbulls

Recently I feel like I've been in a rut. Not "ugh, life's terrible kind of rut", but a "wake up, go to school, come home, chill, fall asleep, repeat" kind of rut. Perhaps not even a rut in the life sense, but more in the spiritual sense. 

I think I realized I was in a rut about a week ago, but it's been going on for a month or so now. For me, a spiritual rut isn't even me staying away from prayer, God's word and church. I might not be feeling it, but I know better that. It's going through the motions without that fire lighting me up. On the surface, nothing is different, but on the inside everything is different. 

I think that the breeding ground for ruts is comfort. The more comfortable we are, the easier it is to just get caught up in the motions. Spiritually, my life is comfortable. I work at a Christian school, where everyone at the very least pretends to love Jesus. We go to chapel once a week and staff devotions twice a week. Most of my friends here are Christians. I know all the right things to do, all the right things to say, and yet.....in my comfort, I've found emptiness. 

There was a time when faith did not come so easily. When I really started pursuing Jesus, I was at my public university (right after my first summer working at a Christian summer camp). I didn't know any special Bible study techniques or even what most of the books of the Bible were really about. I didn't know how I felt about pre-trib, post-trib, young or old earth theory/didn't really know all of these high Christian theology things existed. It was at this time God was shaping who I was and who I would become.

During that time, there was no reason I had to study my Bible. I wasn't a missionary, I wasn't even primarily in a Christian circle, and no one told me what to do. (Or even if people did tell me what to do, I don't know that they would have told me to do that.) But at the same time, as I had watched God give life to others through this book over the summer at camp and saw how others searched it for their guidemap to life, I knew that I had to figure out what that book said. I knew I had to figure out how it applied to my life and why it should matter to me. For the next three years, I read and read. I would say studied, but at the time, I really don't know that I knew how to study anything. There was desperation there, because I knew that there was held life and life was what I needed above all. Since then I go through spells of being passionate and excited about the Word, but not as consistently as I once remembered. 

I think that part of what was exciting in that struggle was making meaning out of the Words that God had spoken to me. Looking back, I don't know I always walked away with the right meaning, but man, did I wrestle with God to find things there and over the things I found there. Now as my understanding has gotten larger, sometimes I feel like there's just nothing to wrestle over anymore. Which is highly not true, but a 0-40 change is much more noticeable than the 40-50. 

I think another thing that's changed is the people I have in my life. I used to have friends that really pushed each other to seek after the Lord together. People who I saw passionate about the things of the Lord and who challenged me to be so with both their words and deeds. Part of this was we just stood out so much from the watching world we were a part of. We really shone as the light and we ran with torches held high through the darkness, trying to share as much light as we could with those around us. 

My second summer at camp I remember talking to one of my friends about this. She had grown up her whole life in a Christian bubble, being home schooled and then going to a Christian university. In this conversation (which has stuck with me for a few years), I remembered comparing our experiences to poodles and pitbulls. So many of the people I had worked with seemed like poodles. It seemed like their whole faith was easy, they always had Christian influences pushing them the right direction, they didn't have a lot of worldly influences trying to drag them down. It was them sitting in Jesus' lap and that was about it. (I do know there is a lack of full truth to that statement now, but this is what I believed at the time.) For me at my public university, with influences daily trying to pull me the wrong way, with not really knowing how to follow Jesus but fighting desperately to learn, I felt like a pitbull. I would fight and fight to try to get to know Jesus more and try to help those around me to know Jesus but it was hard. I didn't have a lot of knowledge or tools at my disposal. But man, it felt good to be fighting hard for Jesus. 

Now, I think I'm becoming a pedicured little poodle. I'm cultured in Christian things and there's not a whole lot of fight left in me right now. As we worshiped in chapel this last week, I realized that and realized things need to change. Whether that's more boldly and courageously speaking for Christ at school (which totally is needed), or perhaps fleeing this too comfortable Christian bubble for the mean streets again, I don't know yet. But pray that I would again become a pitbull, fighting ferociously for my Jesus again. 

Also sorry if I offended anyone in this post. I know we all have our own struggles that we need to fight and faith really isn't easy for anyone.