Creating Drama

30 Apr

 

Cast photo 2017 all cropped

If you’re thinking this is the coolest group of kids you’ve ever seen, you’re right. They are. 

When I was five years old I was jealous. Really jealous. Another little girl in my kindergarten class got to be Mary in the nativity play at school. I still remember how angry I was that someone with a “boy” haircut was going to play the mother of Jesus. It just didn’t seem right. And what did I get to be? A stupid angel…just because I had the right dress…a flower girl dress from my aunt’s wedding. An angel! Pffft…stupid. I was looking at this totally innocent little girl and thinking, “This isn’t right. If I were in charge, I would…” And thus began my first idea as a future director…and future control freak.

A few years later I played the wicked stepmother in a children’s performance of Snow White. Then an elderly chaperone of young girls in the musical Naughty Marietta. During my freshmen year in high school, I was the maid in Father of the Bride and a scene in which I was supposed to cry had to be cut because I was so bad. The next year I gave it one more shot, then gave up. I’m not an actor. I just don’t have it in me to control my face properly. Voice acting, maybe. I was always pretty good at reading stories out loud, especially little kids’ stories with funny voices and animal noises. But acting with my face? Forget it. I’m not convincing anyone. So, I decided, with a little encouragement from my high school drama teachers, to give up acting and focus my energy on something more my style – directing. That’s how in my junior year, for the first time I had the title of Director. Student Director to be more specific, but that was just the beginning.

After two years as a student director, while also helping out backstage at our community talent show, I was hooked. My very first week at college I got a job in the campus theater working on everything from the fly rail bringing in backdrops to the catwalk hanging light filters to even unloading trucks late at night when Off-Broadway shows rolled in to use our semi-professional theater to work out the kinks in their production. My Resident Assistant, a theater major, was so proud of me that she hung a gold star on my dorm room door announcing to everyone that I had gotten an awesome job. I learned so much during those years, but I just thought it was for fun. I was an International Business major, after all. I was going to be wearing panty hose to work every day and breaking the glass ceiling after graduation, not crawling around in the dark backstage. I had no idea that someday I would be halfway across the world using that knowledge to help a group of Czech teenagers harness their creativity into something amazing.

It didn’t stop there, though. After college, while I was living in the states, waiting for the right time to move overseas as I had long intended, I was put to work creating dramas at my church. I wrote something that somehow ended up with me playing the “Messiah,” but that’s a story for another day. Then my brother was a Senior in high school and it was his last chance to be in a musical. Now there’s an actor. Lying with his face? No problem. Came in handy when trying (and succeeding) to get away with a few things in high school. Also pretty useful when he played Jud in Oklahoma, Conrad Birdie in Bye Bye Birdie, and Marcellus in The Music Man.

23738_100464593322684_6823545_n

Marcellus, 2008

There was a problem, though. It was his last year and the previous musical co-director had quit. I was determined to do my part to make sure the musical happened, so I volunteered to co-direct, regretting it the minute I said it. Luckily, my former high school drama teacher, who had recently retired, stepped up and I got happily demoted to Assistant Director. Shane would be Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof and I would be a proud big sister, there every day after work to lend that “attention to detail” skill from my resume to getting the props, costumes, and other issues ironed out. It was yet another invaluable learning experience for which I am very grateful.

23738_100464573322686_4535396_n

A family affair. (Sean and I as techies, Shane as Tevye) 2009

Fast forward three years; I’m finally fulfilling my dream of living in Europe, teaching English as a Second Language, and I find out that I will be transferring from a small town high school in central Bohemia to one of the top grammar schools in all of the Czech Republic; right smack in the capital. And part of my course load, whether I liked it or not, would be teaching English Drama. Who knew?

As of last week, I have completed my fifth year of “teaching” English Drama for 14 to 19 year-olds. And just like every year before, I never thought this year’s play would ever come together. The week before opening night, scenes still weren’t memorized, and in fact one scene wasn’t even completely written. I hear your gasp of horror. Yes, we wrote our own play, and no, we didn’t finish writing it until the week before the premier. In fact, the very last moment of the very last scene was finalized the day before we opened. Yep, just 24 hours before the curtain came up we were making changes – something I always tell my actors is a terrible idea. But you know what? It worked. The play was a hit. Over the past week, I’ve had at least five people ask me to do another run. To find a professional theater in Prague and play it to the general public. Well, blow me over. Six months ago, we didn’t even have the idea. Three months ago, we only had three out of six scenes. One month ago, we didn’t have a final scene. One week before the opening, we were still adding props and costumes. The premier public performance was the first time we actually did it straight through from beginning to end. And through it all, it had become something clever and cool, and even funny. Oh, ye of little faith, indeed.

I guess I put the word “teaching” in quotes because that’s not really what I do. I coordinate. I facilitate. I organize. I help turn chaos into art. It’s kind of like herding cats. Honestly, I wouldn’t recommend it. But when everything turns out in the end, it’s the best feeling in the world. This year, we had 17 students join the English Drama Club, more than any year previous…almost double. It was a lot to take in. Part of me was elated. Part of me was panicking. Our school has a tiny theater. Virtually no backstage. A simple sound set-up and even simpler lights. How was I going to wrangle 17 kids into one production? I looked through dozens of scripts and considered options like split casting. In the end, two kids dropped out, but I still had too much to handle. So, we decided to go rogue and came up with the idea to write our own play that divided the students into smaller groups, and besides the core group of five, most actors would only be in one scene. It is called Strangers on a Plane and it’s as quirky as it sounds. Here is the synopsis from our program:

A young woman living in Miami, FL in 1917 sees a vision of visitors from the future. Dr. Anna Freud, daughter of the famous founder of modern psychiatry, is treating the disturbed lady. In the present day, a group of strangers begins an incredible journey through time and alternate realities to discover many things about themselves, each other, and the world around them.

Yep, it’s weird, but it’s original. And it allowed the students to create, explore, express themselves, have fun, and be a part of something they could be proud of. While I sat there during our final performance, I tried to imagine what it would be like to see the play for the first time. I was in charge of both lights and sound in our tiny little auditorium, and I needed to focus, but for just a few minutes, I let myself really watch. And despite having typed the words myself and been at hours upon hours of rehearsal, directing everything from entrance and exits to the type of underwear the actors should choose (yes, sometimes I need to control even that), I found myself laughing at the jokes harder than ever, smiling as a young actor finally conquered a difficult to pronounce English word, and shed a tear when a moment we worked on over and over turned out just right, with the perfect reaction from the “sold out” audience. *Contented sigh* I had facilitated something truly spectacular.

scene26301

Tiny theater, big talent. Go ahead, guys, take a bow. You deserve it. 

What’s the moral of this story? I guess it could have many. And that’s not the point anyway. I mostly write for myself. To record my history and share my experiences with friends and family far away. But here’s one of the possible things to take away. You never know how the most mundane experiences in your life will be a resource to tap into many decades in the future. We don’t get to, or need to know how God is working in every moment of our lives. We just need to know that He is. He is shaping and molding us from the day we are created in the womb. And many months, years, or decades later, those experiences are still a part of us, part of our fingerprints on the world around us. I don’t know all the reasons that God has brought me here to Prague, Czech Republic, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here, but when I look into those bright young faces, I am so glad that He did.

Lights out. 

Close curtain. 

End of scene. 

Advertisements

Here, piggy piggy…

30 Nov

zabijacka1

This month I had the rare privilege of being fully submerged into one of the true Czech traditions. One that you certainly have to leave the bubble of Prague to participate in.

My second family here in the Czech Republic invited me several months ago to a celebration of their patriarch’s 80th birthday celebration. At the time, I didn’t know what that would involve, but of course I accepted and made sure to save the date all fall. The man we would toast to that day had become a hero of mine two years prior, when he guided me through my first real mushroom hunting adventure. (See September 2014 blog here.) So no matter what was included, I felt honored to be invited and looked forward to the day’s activities. Little did I know what I was about to encounter.

Though I was told before the big day finally arrived the basics of what we would be doing that day, I didn’t allow myself to really engage with the idea of it until we arrived there and saw the evidence of it right in front of me. After a very early morning metro ride across the city, waiting in the rain to get picked up by car, and then a 30 minute ride out of the city into the countryside, we arrived at a small restaurant in a tiny village. After greeting about a dozen extended relatives and family friends that didn’t speak much English and had no idea who I was, the man of the hour arrived. Though he knew we’d be celebrating that day, the true nature of the event itself was a surprise and the birthday boy had convinced himself that his loving family (including his wife of more than 58 years) had arranged a stripper for him.

After jubilant greetings all around and some mulled wine to warm us up, it was time for the festivities to begin. But the real guest of honor still hadn’t made an appearance…

…this is where I pause to tell my vegetarian and vegan friends and family that you may not want to read any further, as you may not like the details ahead…

A pig slaughter (or “killing” as they call it here) is more or less what it sounds like. At 8:30 am there was a live pig in a crate. By 9:30 am there was a dead pig hanging from a specially designed apparatus and being washed and prepared for butchering. These are my understanding of the steps in between:

  • Take shots of Slivovice (plum brandy) to get started
  • Tie up pig’s rear leg
  • Isolate pig in crate to keep it from moving too much
  • Use special device to put the animal down quickly (I had imagined the bolt pistol used in No Country for Old Men, but it was different, more subtle)
  • Pull pig out of the crate by the rope tied to its rear leg as quickly as possible
  • Create an opening in the side of the neck to release blood
  • Immediately put a pan under the wound to collect as much blood as possible
  • Someone sits on top of the pig to “pump” the arm and release the blood more effectively
  • Take more shots of Slivovice to stay warm and be of good cheer
  • A courageous volunteer uses their bare hand to stir the blood in a bucket so it doesn’t start to coagulate (in this case, a 22 year-old female friend who I will always and forever be a little afraid of now, stepped up to the plate)

family-with-pig

This is where things get a little fuzzy because I had to step away for a while and gather myself. Maybe it was good that I hadn’t eaten breakfast in my rush to get out the door.

The next thing I knew, the poor beast was being lovingly washed in a bath of steaming hot water. And we continue…

  • Scrub surface of pig and use an interesting method of running two heavy chains across, under, and around the hide to remove the hair
  • Remove the hooves
  • Hoist the carcass up, rear legs in the air, on a special tripod, hook, and chain device
  • Use a scorching tool to remove any remaining hair or blemishes on the skin
  • Take lots of pictures to commemorate the pig and his/her (in our case, his name was Andrej, after a controversial Czech politician) sacrifice for the good of all
  • Take another shot of Slivovice and dance a jig to the music of a live traditional folk band
  • Place your bets on how long it will take from first cut to having the entire carcass butchered and transported to the nearby kitchen (My guess was 30 minutes)
  • Gird your loins in preparation for the removal of…well…the loins
milos-with-hanging-pig

The man of the hour with his beast, and what he called the “first soup”

However, I overestimated a bit and the whole process took just over 20 minutes. The team of expert butchers showed their skill by efficiently removing and sorting the different parts to be used in a variety of ways throughout the day’s activities. I just stood back with my mouth hanging slightly open, failing to prevent my clear dismay at the gore of it all from displaying clearly on my face.

Once the dirty work was done, (Klara spent nearly half an hour with her hand swirling around in that bucket of blood and veins) we went inside to warm ourselves with another round of mulled wine and some traditional cakes. I had even brought my own pumpkin spice bars to add to the mix, which went over quite well, despite their non-Czechness. The band set up inside, a pre-roasted portion of pork (from a previous victim) was set out with bread and mustard, and the party went into full swing. The delicious micro-brewed beer flowed just as one would expect at a Czech event of this nature, and conversations flowed just as easily. Though only a portion of the people there felt confident speaking English with me (it’s unfortunate how intimidating being a native speaker can be), I was not in want of a cheerful word from several friendly relatives, besides my close friends and their parents who of course speak to me quite naturally. Though I didn’t understand every word, many of the stories could be understood using clues from my small vocabulary, specific gestures and friendly broken English. And after all…cultures may be different, but family is family, and the stories they tell are often the same.

mushroom-cake

 It may look like a basket of the mushrooms, but this is actually a cake! And it seems that I am not the only one who looks up to this awesome guy to be my mushroom guru.

basket-of-sponges

 This one is an inside joke. The word for sponge in Czech (houba) is the same for mushroom. Get it?

After the roast came smoked sausage, followed by the traditional pork goulash, which I had always known could include “mystery” parts, but that day’s revelations brought a whole new meaning to that idea.

Around 5 pm came a call to participate in a traditional sausage stuffing contest, and after a brief internal debate, I decided to join in. Originally, I was put on “Team Red,” but after I saw what made the sausage “red,” I changed to “Team White.” Not surprisingly, Klara didn’t mind being on that team. What’s a diluted version of the stuff when you had your hand swimming directly in it all morning? Anyway, after some brief instructions, the teams got underway tying the ends of the boiled intestine tubes. I’d like to say I took to the task like a pro, but it wasn’t really my thing and I had to keep resisting the urge to wipe an itchy spot on my face and smear it with…uh, stuff. Only my competitive nature kept me going and we prevailed in a virtual tie with Team Red.

sausage-stuffing

Me, Jirka, and a family friend tying sausages on Team White

 

As the designated driver, the next three hours were filled with drinking coffee, looking at old family photos, chatting some more, enjoying live music, and continuing the strange diet of rotating meat products and cake. Around 8 pm it was time to take on my only real contribution to the day – driving home a carload of not-so-sober Czechs. After paying my respects to my hero (who at various points throughout the day had commissioned his grandsons to translate stories from his life to me), I departed with my bag full of various ultra fresh pork products and leftover cakes. I would spend the next week figuring out what all these particular ingredients were and how to use them.

band-and-bartable-scene

In the end, I decided that, though I was raised in a farming family, somewhere along the way, especially after living in Prague for five years, I have become a true city girl. Mushroom hunting in the forest is one thing, but seeing your food while it still has a face and then eating it within hours…well, that’s a whole other ball game. I’ll stick to plastic-wrapped pork chops and bacon from the supermarket for the foreseeable future. And sausage might just take me a little longer. However, despite my discomfort with this intimate encounter with livestock, I am grateful for being included in such an important cultural and family tradition.

Losing Control

30 Sep

control-freak

Quick start. Get out in front of the others. Get a feel for the track. Smooth turns. Break as you enter, accelerate as you exit. Check your blind spot as you cross lanes. Stay a safe distance behind other cars (if they’re good enough to pass you). Don’t bump anyone. Wave to your friends. Lap after lap after lap. Enjoy the breeze. Nice and easy. Now just one lap to go. Second car in. Only one passed me. Not bad. Nice smooth stop. Yeah, that was fun…BAM! Hit full speed from behind by a middle school kid barely tall enough to reach the pedals. Instant pinch in my already vulnerable neck and everything starts to swim in front of my eyes. I literally see red. I did everything right. How could this happen?

go-kart-kid

In my mind, the kid who slammed into me looked about this old.

So went my first time riding go-karts in many years. And within 24 hours I was already seeing the perfect analogy this experience was for my lifetime struggle with trying to control everything and often everyone around me. And the month or so since that day has been one additional opportunity after another to face my weakness, my sin, my failing, my nemesis: the lie I tell myself that I can and should control things.

I like to plan. No, that’s not strong enough. I need to plan. I feel compelled in nearly every waking moment to think about a variety of situations I will be in over the foreseeable future and contemplate what I can/should do. I have lists. I have daily, weekly, and monthly planners. On paper, on my phone, on my tablet, on my laptop. In my head. Sometimes even written on my hand. But the truth is, sometimes that is the extent of my actual ability to do anything about a given situation. I can write everything down, break down multiple scenarios, prepare myself for “worst case” scenarios (as my choleric personality type tends to do), but when it comes down to it, what happens will sometimes simply be out of my control. Woa…that was stressful even to type out and put in writing. But more often than I like to admit, it’s true.

As an experienced and relatively well-organized teacher, I have a lesson plan for the semester. I know how many lessons I will have with each class and what we need to cover in each to get through the designed curriculum. Ha! After more than five years teaching in the Czech Republic’s public school system, you’d think I’d know better. Nope. It gets me every time. That class that you’ve missed three classes with and you desperately need to catch up with? Well, they’re going on an “educational” field trip next week and nobody bothered to tell you. That after school English Drama Club that gives you just 90 minutes a week to prepare a full length play? Well, it’s gonna clash with a required laboratory double lesson and four of your actors will be absent every other week.

 

me-eldon-2

Eldon and I demonstrating how I feel when my plans fail. (But seriously, despite the go-kart incident, we had a lot of fun in Wisconsin Dells this summer.)

 

Three hours early as recommended for an international flight? Two hour delay. Meticulously plan and cook a three-course meal for a friend? Sudden illness. Spend an hour writing a detailed email explaining a complicated work issue? Colleague failed to read it and is completely unprepared for a meeting.  Clear your schedule weeks ahead of time to spend the afternoon with a friend? Last minute family event trumps your plans. Spend four years in an apartment with things just the way you like them? New people move in and make themselves at home. These are mine. Yours might be different.

So, what’s the answer? Don’t plan at all? Just go with the flow? After all, people plan and God laughs, right? Wrong. That well-known saying paints a picture of an evil overseer waiting to see what ridiculous plan I will come up with, just so he can sweep his hand across the game board and mess it all up. That is not the loving and compassionate Creator that I know as my Lord and Savior. The one who is reaching out to me, seeking to sooth my anger and frustration, eager for me to let go. To allow Him to go first. And last. Alpha and Omega. To hem me in on all sides. Not to make the plans, but to be a part of His plan. To obediently and patiently follow the plans that He lays out. Not to question the ups, the downs, the ins, the outs. But to trust. Follow. Breathe in. Breathe out. Seek His ways. If I make perfect plans, do the “right” thing at every turn, consider every scenario, but never consider my Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend…what have I done? Nothing. If I don’t have love…I am nothing. (I Corinthians 13:1-3) Sometimes it takes a blind crash out of nowhere to make the truth swim before our eyes and weigh heavy on our hearts. And once again…to lie it all down at the foot of the cross. Or sometimes it’s a gentle voice behind us. (Isaiah 30:21) Either way, tomorrow is a new day full of grace with a chance to try again.

i-corinthians-13

Five Years Already?

30 Jun

I can’t believe it. Next month will mark the anniversary of the start to the five year journey I am currently on –  living in Europe, specifically the Czech Republic – teaching and doing ministry in many ways. When I began my training in July 2011, I had in mind two years abroad…at least. I knew that I could and should commit at least this much time to any situation I was placed in. I was without a spouse, children, debt, or any  obligations or restrictions that might bring me back to the states sooner. So far it’s been one year in Kralupy nad Vltavou, four years in Prague, and none of those details have changed, though many other things have.

  1. What I eat. Most of the Czech cuisine that I eat these days is in the form of cafeteria food. So it’s not exactly gourmet, but not as bad as it sounds. I’d take it over American school cafeteria food any day. One of the main staples of Czech cooking that sticks out to me is dumplings – bread, potato, fruit – you name it, I’ve eaten it. I could write a whole blog about the different varieties and my thoughts on them, but I’ll spare you for now. Next is sauerkraut, something that I absolutely hated as a child. Wisconsin cuisine is heavily influenced by German, so I grew up being offered this nasty vinegary atrocity frequently. I thought it looked and smelled vulgar. Well, I had to give a it a try while living in central Europe and it has grown on me. I can eat most varieties of it without making a face and in fact several are quite nice. I just can’t handle the quantity that some people consume. I mean some of these people eat their weight in the stuff, I swear. I also used to reject ham in favor of turkey, chicken, or even roast beef for a sandwich, but conquering the specific Czech phrases I needed for the deli counter and the discovery of Prague ham changed all that. Pork is the most common meat here and they know what they’re doing with the delicious smoked meat named for the capital city.

    10628373_732125173489953_3166529530426547338_n

    Fruit dumplings served as lunch on our English course in the mountains

  2. What I drink. Two words: coffee and beer. So basically, I’ve become more mainstream. I mean, don’t most adults drink these two staples? No, not me. I guess the desire to fit in and drink what most people drink while socializing finally won me over. That and a few pushy friends. Besides, this place has ALWAYS been the home of fantastic beer, as any true lover of the brew will tell you. Bohemia is host to world-renowned names like Pilsner and Budweiser (the real one), as well as dozens of microbreweries with hundreds of ale and lager varieties to satisfy any taste. CZ has been the center of beer culture for centuries, but the coffee culture is fairly new. It seems that cafes are constantly popping up all over the city. And not just Starbucks and Costa, thank goodness, but genuine barista-approved beauties with atmosphere and class. And thanks to the Czech habit of not meeting in your home, but out and about, I have tried dozens of them. Come for a visit and I’ll show you my favorites!

    11223895_892052940830508_2065559891054923148_n

    My favorite ice coffee at my favorite Cross Cafe

  3. What I wear.  I think I’ve adapted to Czech standards when it comes to my footwear the most. In school, students remove their outdoor shoes and switch to sandals and crocs in the entryway. Many teachers do the same. I resisted at first, but now I am pretty much in line with it. And since I live in the building, there’s no change necessary. I just put on my sandals (yes, with socks in the winter), crocs, or clogs and up the stairs I go. And I’m not even ashamed. I blend right in. Also, I’ve started a nice collection of little black dresses, the standard uniform for a teacher attending a graduation ball, as I do every winter. I guess some do wear color, but I’m still me, after all.

    S6301797

    Documenting my first time wearing socks with sandals to school four years ago

  4. What I say. Though I am far from fluent in the extremely complicated, yet beautiful Czech language that has the same Slavic origins as Polish, Russian, Serbian, and others, I am known to use a few phrases without realizing it. Don’t be surprised i you hear me mumble “Dobrou chut” under my breath before I take my first bite of a meal, as this seems to be the law here in CZ. Apparently you are the rudest person possible if you forget. Trust me, I’ve gotten some looks. Same goes for the hearty exchange of “Nazdravi” (using eye contact) with everyone at the table before your first chug of beer. It just doesn’t taste the same without it. And don’t be surprised if you’re about to step out into traffic and I shout “Pozor!” The students just love it when I let that one slip in class or in the hallway. Finally, something that makes me sound like a rapper to most non-Czechs, though I am simply expressing agreement or understanding: “Jo jo” pronounced like “Yo yo” and meaning “Yeah yeah.”

    Along with the above, most of my Czech vocabulary consists of food words

Most of these things will go dormant this summer as I flip sides on my double life back to the American me. No socks with sandals, at least. Big fat nope.

As we all know by now, those planned two years turned into five pretty quickly. And I am returning to CZ in the fall, with no plans yet for ending my time in Prague. Every year I am gaining more knowledge of the culture, the language (well, a little bit), and how I can walk more closely with God’s will, seeking to expand my life’s impact among His creation in central Europe. And many things about me are the same. I am still a leader, a control freak, a passionate baker/cook, a worried big sister, a cynic, and most importantly a devoted follower of Christ. Whether the next five years bring big changes, small changes, a new direction, a new destination, all, or none of the above, I praise you God, because Your grace is sufficient for me.

 

 

Busyness and Loneliness: Not Mutually Exclusive

29 Feb
S6301890

A rare picture I allowed to be taken of me…just me…nothing to distract the eye from me…alone. But at least the backdrop is nice.

As an ESTJ-A on the Meyers-Briggs scale, my personality is known as “The Executive.” This means that I tend towards leadership roles and like to be involved in planning and making decisions. I am generally seen as reliable and someone to turn to when something needs to get organized and moving forward. I am fairly assertive (that’s the -A part) and I don’t mind speaking to/in front of groups, a common phobia among adults. All of these traits combined, once I am well-established in a community, I quickly become very involved in a variety of activities. Though it took me a little longer to get established in that role while living in a foreign culture, it has become clear recently that even this environment hasn’t stopped my natural tendencies from rising to the surface.

At school, this means that I have found myself in the position of head of the native speaker office of the English department. It sounds more impressive than it is, in my opinion. There are only five of us, so I am in charge of myself and four other people. We are a fairly small sub-group within the English department and within the faculty as a whole. However, the role does come with a specific list of responsibilities and tasks, as well as new ones that seem to pop up every few weeks. I am ultimately responsible for the administration of our office and the curriculum, lessons, events, and activities that fall under our jurisdiction. This requires weekly, monthly, and annual oversight and management of a variety of activities. And honestly, most of the time I thrive within this type of administrative structure and the deadlines that go with it, so I can’t (well, I shouldn’t) complain.

At church, my involvement and leadership has also evolved at a slightly slower pace than it would (or has in the past) at a church in the states. Though my church in Prague is an international English-speaking congregation, I was still hesitant to step forward due to the mix of cultural norms and seeming unknowns. However, in the end, my gifts were brought to the attention of certain people and I have slowly started to step forward in taking on different responsibilities and leadership roles. Increasing over the last six months especially, this has included directing the Christmas program, helping to organize church lunches, hosting and/or leading Bible studies, and joining the homeless ministry during its recent transitional period.

Despite all of this, as a single woman living alone in a foreign country, there is no amount of social, professional, or organizational involvement that can protect me from the threat of loneliness. Yes, I am an extrovert. Yes, I am a joiner. Yes, I am even a leader. However, I am also a person who lives alone, and without a planned evening activity, I can easily spend 6-8 waking hours completely alone on a typical weekday. This tends to happen about once a week or at least once every two weeks. If it occurs on a Saturday, the time in solitude could get dangerously close to 16 hours. Obviously, this doesn’t mean that I am simply sitting on the couch eating popcorn and binge-watching a series (what is commonly known as Netflix and chill — but can I use this term when the “chill” part is solo? Anyway, I digress…). It more likely means that I am spending three hours marking papers and preparing lessons, two hours planning a meeting or event, and one hour cooking and eating.

Now, some of you busy moms or hard-working professionals and students might be thinking, “Woa, eight hours alone? Yes, please.” You probably live in a house or apartment with one to four or even more people. They are likely to be noisy, demand large amounts of your time, and allow you little privacy. But, they also provide you with companionship. They are a near constant reminder that you are needed and loved. These fellow humans, whether they be family members, friends, or simply roommates, provide physical contact, an emotional atmosphere (though of course maybe not always a great one), and a listening ear. This is something that I often find myself without for large chunks of time and wonder if it is the best thing for me long term.

During these recent times of extended solitude, I have often found myself stopping and talking to my Lord and Savior when perhaps I would otherwise chat with a family member or other living companion. I feel that I need to express something – good or bad, happy or sad, constructive or flippant, selfish or giving, dark or light. But instead of turning to another human being, I am left with my own thoughts, and often that leads to prayer. Not the kind of sit down, fold your hands, formulaic proper prayer that we do in groups, but more like a dialogue. And that is the moment that I realize that my loneliness…or perhaps more accurately the threat of it…has led me to a place of dependence on Christ that I’m not sure I have experienced before. In fact, I am rarely as lonely as I fear that I will be. As every year passes, I see more and more examples of how God is equipping me uniquely, specifically, and fully to follow His path. So during this chapter of my life – at this time, in this place, within these circumstances – this ability to be “alone” but also wholly within His presence, is just another example. Besides, all along God has graciously provided me with activities in each season of my life that bring me in contact with amazing groups of people that I can reach out to, walk beside, and serve with. This current mix of quiet busy days with only the Holy Spirit as my counsel and noisy busy days surrounded by co-workers and students or friends and family, makes up a a beautiful patchwork of days that in the end I am happy to call my life.

 

New Year’s Eve Mid-Life Crisis

31 Dec
midlifecrisis-main

Not exactly my new haircut, but close…

I know what you’re thinking. Holy cow. Shara’s back. Her six month writing coma has ended. Yes, it’s been a long time. And there’s a very ridiculous reason for that, which I’ve just come to terms with. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to write. Every pore of my being wants to write almost every waking moment of the day. It’s been that way since I was seven or eight years old. That’s why I have a million journals and tiny scraps of paper with ideas on them all over both of my desks. I even love the feeling of my fingers flying across the keyboard for absolutely no reason. But it seems that every time I sit down at the end of the month to write a blog any “inspiration” that I have is slowly sucked from me as I sit and ponder. I think about previous blogs and things that I’ve been excited to share and they all seem so interesting compared to my life over the last six months. This is the lie I’ve been letting myself believe, anyway.

New Year’s Eve is a time to both look back and look forward. These days, every form of social media is full of lists, quizzes, memes, and more that are supposed to inspire you to appreciate what you’ve had in the past year and look forward to even greater things. Am I the only one who is having a hard time with that this year? I haven’t gotten married, had a baby, started a new job, moved to a new home, or made any other big changes. I’ve been doing what God invited me to do in the Czech Republic more than five years ago. I’m living in the same flat, teaching the same classes, and mostly enjoying the company of the same friends. And for some reason I’ve convinced myself that this is a bad thing and nothing to look back on fondly.

This year, for a variety of reasons, I decided to stay in Prague for the winter break instead of flying back to the states to see family. Perhaps all of the time I’ve spent at home alone without deadlines, specific goals, projects, events, or daily appointments has driven me a little crazy. This is not who I am. I am a goal-oriented, deadline-chasing, event-planning ESTJ who does not often take time to sit and reflect on myself. When I allow those elements of my personality to take over my daily life, I guess I get a bit overwhelmed when the structure falls away, I’m away from people, and I have way too much time to look in the mirror.

Yesterday it all came to a head when I jumped the fence into Crazytown and decided to get the most drastically short haircut of my life (not counting the time I was four and had to get a pixie cut due to a bubble gum tragedy). Today I was starting to hallucinate about other drastic changes – getting on a plane and leaving everything behind, going to grad school, or worse…signing up for a dating website. Gulp. After a failed attempt to plan a last minute get-together, I went to the store and bought all my favorite foods to eat at home alone. Then two friends (who know who they are) spontaneously drove across town to remind me who I am. They stood out in the cold and listened to my self-pitying nonsense longer than any mildly developed friendship would allow for. Then they invited me (actually insisted that I come) to their house for late night shenanigans.

They rescued me just in time (literally on the way home from the store) before I went home and gained 5 pounds in a self-loathing rampage of calories. Since then, I’ve been preparing some snacks to share tonight and thinking about some of the things that have gone well this year.

  1. Besides my annual Christmas cold (my most recent reason to feel sorry for myself), I’ve been healthy and able to take care of myself while living alone.
  2. I found a nice, professional, trustworthy, English-speaking, and helpful (not to mention good-looking albeit married) orthopedic specialist who has gotten me back on the right track with my knee pain.
  3. I was able to help pull together a relatively last-minute Christmas musical outreach program that people enjoyed, and more importantly, told the Good News of Jesus Christ in this spiritually desolate environment.
  4. My presence has been a comfort to students at my school who are struggling and seemingly have no one else to talk to. I have been equipped by the Holy Spirit beyond my own abilities with compassion to speak words of encouragement to them in dark times.
  5. I have friends who I can lean on and they can lean on me. I have been able to share my Christian faith with many of them and know that I am one of the links in a chain that can bring them to know the saving grace of Jesus Christ.
  6. I visited several new places, including two longtime dreams – Ireland and Spain – with people I really care about.
  7. In all things, God has been graciously using me in His plan.

I could go on, but you get the point. Yes, I will be turning 35 in a few months, and most of the things I thought would be true about my life at this point are not. But many amazing things I could have never predicted are true. To summarize, there are no flying cars and the Cubs didn’t win the World Series, but God is good – yesterday, today, and forever.

 

 

Praguer’s Delight

31 May
20150530_184328

The State Opera in Prague

This weekend I received a shot of pure Prague culture. Coincidentally, each day I had something scheduled that put me right in the heart of Prague and reminded me just how awesome it is to live in this city.

Firstly, Friday night was the annual “Night of Churches” in the Czech Republic, as well as in a few neighboring European countries. One night a year all of the participating churches are open to the public with free entrance and special programs. The purpose is to educate the population (it’s not geared towards tourists, but locals) about what the faith community has to offer. As CZ is one the most atheistic countries in the world, this is an important opportunity to give the citizens of the country a chance to reconsider their position on Christian faith.

Though I’ve lived here for four years, this is the first time I was able to attend the event. Even though I wasn’t as well organized as I usually like to be, I was still able to pull together a pretty decent evening (thanks in part to help from a friend in finding the locations) and see, hear, and even smell some of the wonders of the variety of churches in Prague. As you may know, Prague is known for its amazing architecture and well-preserved historical sites, including many wonderful cathedrals and basilicas.

Most of the church programs began with a mass/worship service around 5:00, followed by a historical lecture, musical performances such as choirs and orchestras, tours of the building, and so on. As the event was directed towards locals, most of the programming was in Czech, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the music immensely and letting my eyes feast on the beauty of the old buildings. Plus, there was some written material in English at a few locations.

20150529_201203

Inside St. James the Greater

20150529_200451

Entrance to St. James the Greater

Since we did a whirlwind tour through 6-8 different churches in just a few hours, I can’t recall the details of each, so I’ll just mention a few highlights. First of all, I was really excited to finally get to see inside Our Lady of Tyn, which is the large castle-looking church on Old Town Square. If you’ve ever been to Prague, you’ve taken a picture of it, trust me. It’s rarely open to see inside, though, so that was a priority. Unfortunately, it was pretty crowded, so we moved on quickly. I’d have to say my favorite church, St. James the Greater, was one that I hadn’t even planned to see, but since it was so close to Tyn, we stopped by, and I’m so glad we did! It is unique, both inside and out. I have always loved ceilings, and this one is breathtaking! Next, I noticed that, just like in the states, the Protestant churches are much plainer than the Catholic ones. The one that I visited along the way had the same structure as others, but was decorated in a completely different manner, with a simple wooden cross, white walls, and blue trim along the arches. The acoustics rivaled its Catholic neighbors, though, and just the sound of a choir warming up for a concert was impressive. Finally, some churches need to be reminded about the concept of “ too much of a good thing.” In several of the larger ones, the décor was simply distracting. You didn’t know where to look. The gold trim? The fancy spirally pillars? The jewel-encrusted statues? Hm, maybe just the ceiling for me.

Czech Brethren Evangelical Church (Protestant)

Czech Brethren Evangelical Church (Protestant)

Secondly, on Saturday evening I attended my very first opera with two friends who went in together on getting me tickets for my birthday. We saw Aida, the Egyptian-themed masterpiece from Verdi , showing in the State Opera in downtown Prague. It was also my first time in the building, so I was buzzing with anticipation to see…you guessed it…the ceiling. And I wasn’t disappointed. We were sitting in the balcony, so I got an intimate and up-close view. Amazing chandelier, angels playing trumpets, delicate golden details, you get the idea. The opera wasn’t bad either. I’m glad I had a chance to read the synopsis before I went because, despite the subtitles on a screen above the stage, I had a hard time following the story. It might have something to do with my drowsy state after eating a traditional heavy Czech meal, including a small beer. Oops.

State Opera

State Opera

Finally, on Sunday afternoon I took a visitor to Vyšehrad, a large complex including a basilica, gardens, statues, and a nice view of the city from the south – altogether one of my favorite sights in Prague. If you come to visit me, you’ll get to see it, guaranteed. I am especially a fan of the cemetery, with dozens of famous Czechs buried in the vaults, mausoleums, and traditional gravesites. The gravestones are absolutely fantastic works of art. It’s hard to explain, but I could spend hours wandering around looking at the individual designs commissioned by families throughout the centuries. The basilica was also open, as part of an event called “Days of Faith” that is going on now following the “Night of Churches.” I was pleasantly surprised by this, since I had intended to visit it on Friday, but didn’t make it to that part of town. The inside of St. Peter and Paul is painted with art nouveau designs inspired by Alfons Mucha. The use of dark green and brown floral and leaf patterns makes you feel like the ceiling is a forest canopy and adds to its unique atmosphere and beauty. It goes without saying that I appreciated that part.

20150531_154215

Alfons Muchas-inspired art nouveau design inside St. Peter and Paul Basilica

Number one lesson to take away from this weekend: Prague is an excellent place to live if you like fancy ceilings.

The ceiling of St. Peter and Paul Basilica

The ceiling of St. Peter and Paul Basilica