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I stood on the platform of the Praha Hlavni Nadrazi (Prague Main Train Station), once a bastion of Art Nouveaux architecture and now reduced to a dilapidated iron cave, waving goodbye like a good Czech to Lena until her train had passed way beyond my vision. Lena was on her way “home” to Cheb… a Czech home away from home, at least until two months from now when she loads all her things back in suitcases and carries them back to the USA.

Left alone on platform 2, I sat down on a nearby bench and relished the transient peacefulness of a silent train station, a place usually filled with the hustle and bustle of European travel: arrival and departure announcements, screeching trains coming to a halt, and busy people like ants wandering determinedly toward unknown destinations - people leaving home, people going home, people being welcomed back home, people arriving at a new home. The awkward absence of this emotion from such a romanticized place made it seem very plain and ordinary.

Sitting there now alone, I thought of Lena on her way back to Cheb and it made me think about home, about the definition of the word. I have certainly changed my definition of “home” greatly over the past two years and learned that “home” doesn’t define someone as much as we think it does. I remember back in college when the first question anyone asked you was, “Where are you from?” The answer was used to sort you into categories with automatic regional stereotypes: South, North, West, East, abroad, or Texas J Home helped label who you were at that point, and often people from the same region found comfort and camaraderie together.

But where was Lena really going? Home? Is that what she would call it?

If so, then I had left my home in Texas for a temporary home in Sokolov last year. When I decided to return to the Czech Republic, my “home” in Texas became temporary since I had only gone back for a visit. But, back in the Czech Republic, I left my “home” in Sokolov for an even more temporary “home” in Prague. Confused? Yeah, I was, too.

When I came to Prague, every part of me thought, “I’ll go back to Sokolov when I’m done here. No need to say goodbye to anyone or anything. This is my home, and I will be back.” That being the case, I never embraced Prague as my “home” in any sense of the word. If Sokolov wasn’t my real home, then certainly Prague was even less like home. Therefore, I didn’t really involve myself in people’s lives here, in ministry opportunities, or in a church. I distanced myself from everything with the thought that it didn’t make any sense to start something I couldn’t finish.

But, a month became two, and two months became three…. So, here I am three months later realizing that I can’t go back to Sokolov now, that it’s not my “home” anymore. The people I went there to serve have been served in other ways, I haven’t been a part my friends’ lives that I went back to be with, the things I wanted to do are too late to accomplish, and that’s not where I’m needed anymore. The ministry there in Sokolov would be better served if I stayed in Prague.

In that shocking realization, I looked around my “home” in Prague. I was living in a flat with four amazing girls that I had never opened up to or let into my life, I was surrounded by excellent worship and ministry opportunities that I never got involved in, suitcases that I never unpacked, people I never really served. I was horrified. What was I to do? I had put so much faith in the fact that I would definitely return to Sokolov, to the place and people that blessed me so much last year, where I felt comfortable, to finish my agenda there. But what I recognized instead was that I had passed up opportunities for friendship, ministry, and growth here in Prague because it was only “temporary”.

What I have learned this year after constantly moving from place to place, house to house, job to job, friend to friend, without anything to call my own, is that every “home” here on Earth is temporary and that we must always strive to reach our true Home by serving wherever we are to our fullest ability. If we limit our definition of “home” to exclude anything seemingly temporary, then we will never let ourselves be vulnerable or involved for the constant fear that it would suddenly end! What a sad way to live my life!
My home is where I am right now. Not that I don’t have roots or that I haven’t been affected by each individual place I’ve lived. Each “home” in my past makes me act differently, brings up different memories, both happy and sad, and has shaped me into the person I am now. But, by Living (with a capital L) wherever I am in the present, how much more of a difference can I make, how many more people can I touch, and how many more people can touch me? Just because something may seem “temporary” doesn’t mean that God can’t use it to teach me and others. Like waving to Lena until she was beyond my vision - just because I couldn’t see her anymore didn’t make her any less real or her caring friendship any less present in my life.

In many ways, I feel like I have already accomplished what God sent me here to accomplish - coming to Prague to teach for Katie at Nad Aleji. Smiling with colleagues at the faculty photo today to an audience of intrigued and giggling students, I realized that this was where my “home” was all along. As I accept that I won’t be returning to my former Czech “home” in Sokolov and face the reality of returning to my “home” in Texas in a few months, I’ve been considering how I want to spend my remaining time left in Prague… Rather than counting down the days until I have to leave, frantically packing in everything I’ve wanted to do these past years and never did, I would rather kick up my feet and make myself feel at “home”.

Or Did You Get Lost in Amsterdam?

Sorry, excuse the Guster reference…But, in all seriousness, after venturing to Amsterdam with Uncle Doug this month, I can truly say that I sympathize with all the poor souls who are honestly lost, never to be found, along Amsterdam’s beautiful canal streets. And here is why:

- First of all, regarding Amsterdam’s orientation, the streets are organized into a wagon-wheel design radiating from an epicenter near the train station, situated along the major waterway. Therefore, many streets move around in a circular shape, and the streets change names and directions every few blocks or so. So, you may think that you are heading north if you assume a more logical grid-like pattern, only to look up and realize that you are in a completely different part of town than otherwise intended ... and you took the long way to get there.

- The trams in Amsterdam have full authority to run right down the middle of otherwise pedestrian-only walkways. So, as you innocently wander the streets lining Leidesplein perusing overly- priced postcards, don’t be surprised if you hear a loud clanging behind you and turn to find yourself facing a tram heading full speed in your direction. You thought you were safe, but you were wrong. I hear that there are a significant number of these “accidents” every year.

- As you probably know, there are a number of special “coffee houses” in and around the town where you can indulge in a smoke or a seemingly harmless “brownie”. That, paired with the often excessive drinking that I witnessed (mostly by tourists), can make a dangerous combination… especially if you happen to wander out of the coffee house feeling a bit, shall we say, “light-headed” and get lost or hit by a tram. It’s all related folks… feel the pattern.

- Ok, let’s be honest… if I went there again, I would probably never come back either. Despite its bad reputation, Amsterdam is an extremely cool city. It has just about everything you could ever want or need: awesome restaurants of every nationality, an extremely diverse population of open-minded people, incredible museums and theaters, wonderful bustling squares filled with shady beer gardens to nurse a Heineken, beautiful gardens of tulips…and a Ben and Jerry’s (yes, I had Oatmeal Cookie Chunk for the first time since November, and I relished in every moment of it). New York City truly should have kept its original namesake (New Amsterdam), because Amsterdam sincerely reminds me of the European version of the “city that never sleeps”, a true cultural capitol of the world.

I was in Amsterdam as a tagalong on one of Doug’s planned University of Wisconsin educational travel trips, so I got to partake of all the culture Amsterdam has to offer. Apart from eating at delightfully yummy places, I got to hear lectures on Dutch art and attend guided tours through the Van Gogh museum, the Rembrandt House, and the Rijksmuseum. We saw a Beethoven performance in the incredible Koncertgebouw’s main hall, heard a Bulgarian pianist perform Chopin and Debussy, and listened to the most interesting “jazz” performance I’ve ever seen. It consisted of a talented pianist accompanied by a wildly eccentric drummer who banged on anything and everything he saw to incomprehensible rhythms that apparently only he could hear. It was wildly entertaining until his stick broke and catapulted into the head of an audience member in the first row. Luckily nothing was severed or had to be dislodged, so, to the dismay of most of the audience, the concert continued. Those on the first row, however, did don sunglasses as protective wear and cover their heads every time he whacked the drum too hard.

Probably my favorite day on the entire trip was the day when I got to have a “date” with Uncle Doug, and we went on a daytrip to nearby Haarlem. There, we got to see a huge church with incredible wooden ceilings and the most beautiful organ with over 5,000 pipes, played by both Handel and Mozart. After taking a short walk through the city to see their authentic windmill, we rented bikes from a really sketchy guy and rode to the coast. We had bought some genuine Gouda cheese and other goodies (including fresh rolls, olive spread, sun-dried tomatoes, and shrimp), so we had a nice picnic by the sea before returning home through the sand dune paths. We almost made it back without any hitches, but we couldn’t quite outrun the eminent rain and ended up soaking wet. All in all, we felt very European.

Final note: Amsterdam is cool. You should go there.

Spring Means New Life

Spring has arrived in Prague with a wealth of vivid colors and energy: fiery red tulips lining the sidewalks in Petriny, rollerbladers and bikers speeding through paved Strahov Park, and Petrin Hill alive with billowing cherry blossoms. Everyone knows that Spring brings rebirth of life and spirit, especially after such a record winter like the one the Czech Republic experienced this year.

In a poetic way, Spring has done the same in my life - following an extremely hard and emotional winter, Spring has beckoned me to rejoice again and find peace in knowing that God makes all things new.

It all began with an intense desire to make some changes in my life, which usually manifests itself as Spring Cleaning in most households. Seeing that I live with four other girls, I figured that that type of cleansing was futile. Instead, it emerged as a self-cleansing detox diet to get rid my body of toxins and to encourage healthier eating. Erin, who literally eats dessert after breakfast and feasts on Czech food at it’s best – heavy white bread dumplings and various sausage medleys from the school cafeteria – was reduced to only fresh fruits and vegetables, brown rice, various random grains (such as buckwheat?), rice milk, and a selected few bean species. It wasn’t a lose-weight diet (which never worked for me since I am always so focused on what I can’t eat that I rebel) but a feel-good-about-me way to change my eating habits for good. Little did I know how thankful I would be that week for being permanently banned from chocolate, otherwise there wouldn’t be an ounce left of it in the flat!

I received some difficult news the day I began the detox that brought up a lot of very painful feelings and realizations - feelings of betrayal, deceit, guilt, and hurt. I couldn’t understand why I was letting it affect me so harshly, but I literally had a breakdown on the middle of the city bus back from Novy Smichov (the closest shopping center), a major no-no on Czech public transportation. I’m sure the other passengers thought I was crazy for even talking, much less bawling my eyes out.

What it made me realize was that the reaction had little to do with the news itself. While I was hurt by it, that wasn’t the basis for my feelings. When I arrived in Prague, I had distanced myself from my new roommates, thinking that the whole situation would be quite temporary, leaving me alone and with no one to share my feelings with about some painful circumstances I had been experiencing. Instead of talking about my emotions constructively, I internalized them. I let them eat at me from the inside out, allowing them to devalue and denigrate me to the point that my self-esteem was about zero.

I had NOT been the same Erin the past few months – fun, joyful, open, encouraging; I had become a virtual outcast - timid, boring, reclusive and jaded. The more I let my inner emotions affect me, the more reserved and removed I became. How pointless to be a depressed “missionary”? I felt like a failure, but I had been drained by this year’s circumstances and was too ashamed to discuss it.

So, one day I exploded, and everything came out all at once. Listening to myself drain all these emotions during the following days, I was shocked that I had kept them all inside for so long and had refused to open up to anyone, despite the fact that I knew how far I was from everyone. I literally spent the next few days crying and purging all my emotions over cups of ginger root tea and rice cakes (instead of milk and cookies!).

But, what has emerged is beautiful. Through this, God has revealed to me all of the lies that I had convinced myself of and has begun building me up again. I had simply been drained. I had nothing left to give, and He has begun to fill me again. In this spring of new life, He has given me new chances for life as well… to believe in myself again.

I’ve been reading a Beth Moore book called “Believing God”, and one chapter focuses on believing that “I am who God says I am”. Instead of defining myself or letting others define me, God has already taken that responsibility on Himself, defining me as “blessed, chosen, adopted, favored, redeemed, and forgiven” (Psalm 42:5). Unless I believe those things, how can my life give Him glory?
The events that caused my brokenness are not important - what IS important is that they don’t matter. God can fill every void if we let Him.
For those of you wondering about how my detox diet has fared, it diet ended abruptly today at the school principal’s 60th birthday party – the fresh pastries and champagne beckoned to me too strongly. So, perhaps I will start over again on the process of taking in new “toxins”, but for now I feel renewed and light, like my real self. My body has undergone several detox procedures this past week – I have given everything poisonous up to Him, and I can rest assured it won’t be back.

“[Erin, Erin], Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But, I have prayed for you [Erin] that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.” Luke 22:31-32