*To read this post in English, scroll down.

Cara Italia,

Per la seconda volta in poco più di 10 anni, me ne vado dalle le tue coste. La seconda volta si è rivelata ancora più difficile della prima. La prima volta che ti ho lasciato, ho pensato che fosse un “Addio”, ma Dio aveva in mente un piano differente, e quando mi ha ricondotto a te, ho pensato che sarebbe durato molto più dei 5 anni che ho trascorso camminando nelle tue strade acciottolate. Penso che sia per questo che il dolore mi sta attanagliando … Non pensavo che avrei detto addio così presto.

Italia, mi hai insegnato così tanto. Ora so come godermi il tempo a tavola con amici e parenti, mangiare senza fretta un pasto che a malapena prendevo il tempo di assaggiare, e tanto meno apprezzare. Mi hai insegnato a rallentare e godermi la vita. Ora adoro il mare … ancora non la sabbia … e faccio fatica ad immaginare la mia vita senza una passeggiata nel tardo pomeriggio sul lungomare, con la leggera brezza del mare che mi rinfresca dal sole della sera e il sapore di gelato cremoso sulla mia lingua.

Cibo … oh il cibo che mi hai dato negli anni. Il mio palato si è evoluto ed è diventato più raffinato. L’amore per il cibo veramente buono mi ha fatto desiderare di fare buon cibo. Ho imparato che il buon cibo non deve essere complicato, o con un elenco di ingredienti lungo due pagine. Dammi un po’ di olio d’oliva, pomodori, aglio, basilico, parmigiano e pasta e posso darti un ottimo piatto da degustare in pochi minuti. Mi hai insegnato la semplicità, dentro e fuori la cucina.

Mi hai mostrato una bellezza differente da qualsiasi cosa io abbia mai visto. Dalle rovine di Roma e Paestum alle dolci colline ricoperte di vigneti della Toscana, fino alle acque cristalline della Costiera Amalfitana; ho visto luoghi incredibilmente belli che mi hanno lasciato senza fiato e in adorazione di Dio.

Sono cresciuta nella mia sicurezza mentre camminavo per le strade ombreggiate dai condomini in tutti i colori di un tramonto. Ho imparato che posso fare cose difficili, come superare l’ esame di guida italiano al primo tentativo, o parlare in un italiano non perfetto in una stanza piena di donne, o aiutare a guidare la lode in italiano. Mi hai spinto fuori dalla mia zona di comfort quasi ogni giorno, e per questo sono cresciuta come persona.

Mi hai dato amici che sono diventati familiari e per questo ti sono sempre grata. Questi sono amici che mi hanno abbracciata come uno di loro. Hanno mostrato pazienza con la mia lingua, cura e preoccupazione durante i grandi momenti di sofferenza e hanno condiviso lacrime e risate. Questo è uno dei più grandi doni.

Italia, mi hai regalato una chiesa diversa da qualsiasi altra di cui abbia mai fatto parte prima. Questa chiesa mi ha insegnato, mi ha resa più forte, mi ha incoraggiata, cambiata e amata. È un gruppo di persone che cercano Dio, e quanto mi sento benedetta per averne fatto parte anche se in piccola dose!

Italia, casa del mio cuore, mi mancherà tutto di te … beh quasi tutto. Mi va bene non andare più all’ufficio immigrazione. Ma oltre quelle visite annuali, mi mancherai, mi mancheranno tutte le parti pazze, belle, confuse e deliziose di te. Sei una parte di me per sempre.

Ma per ora, dico “arriverderci” … ma mai “addio”.

 

Dear Italy,

For the second time in more than 10 years, I am leaving your shores. The second time has proven even more difficult than the first. The first time I left you, I thought it was “Addio”, but God had a different plan in mind, and when He led me back to you, I thought it would be for much longer than the 5 years I have spent walking your cobblestone streets. I think that is why the pain is cutting me deeper…I did not think I would be saying goodbye this soon. 

Italy, you have taught me so much. I now know how to enjoy being around a table with friends and family, not rushing through a meal I barely take the time to taste, much less appreciate. You have taught me how to slow down and enjoy life. I now love the sea…still not the sand though…and I have a hard time imagining my life without a walk in the late afternoon on the lungomare, a slight breeze from the sea cooling me in the evening sun and the taste of creamy gelato on my tongue. 

Food…oh the food you have given me over the years. My palate has expanded and evolved and become more refined. The love of truly good food has led to a desire to make good food. I learned that good food does not have to be complicated, with a list of ingredients two pages long. Give me some good olive oil, tomatoes, garlic, basil, parmesan, and pasta and I can give you a great tasting meal in only a few minutes. You taught me simplicity, in and out of the kitchen. 

You have shown me beauty unlike anything I have ever seen. From the ruins of Rome and Paestum, to the rolling vine-covered hills of Tuscany, to the crystal blue waters along the Amalfi Coast, I have seen incredibly beautiful sights that have left me breathless and in worship of God. 

I have grown in my confidence as I walked streets shadowed by apartment buildings in all the colors of a sunset. I learned I can do hard things, like passing my Italian driving test the first time or speaking in non-perfect Italian in a room filled with women or helping lead worship in Italian. You have pushed me out of my comfort zone almost daily, and I have grown as a person because of it. 

You have given me friends who have become family and for that I am forever grateful. These are friends who embraced me as one of their own. They showed patience with my language, care and concern during great times of suffering, and shared tears and laughs. This is one of the greatest gifts. 

Italy, you gave me a church unlike any I have ever been a part of before. This church taught me, stretched me, encouraged me, changed me, and loved me. It is a group of people seeking after God and how blessed I am to have been a small part of it. 

Italy, home of my heart, I will miss everything about you…well almost everything. I am ok not going to the immigration office anymore. Besides those yearly visits, I will miss you, all the crazy, beautiful, confusing, and delectable parts of you. You are a part of me forever. 

But for now, I say “arriverderci”… but never “addio”. 

 

Being part of this moment in time in a place that is experiencing so much pain and loss and at the same solidarity and fortitude is an amazing thing. And though it might sound strange, I am thankful to be a part of it.

I’ll be honest…when this thing started it was up north and I didn’t think too much about it. I did think the few people in town with face masks were exaggerating a bit. But I don’t think I was alone. I don’t think anybody could have imagined 4 weeks ago what was coming.

But then schools closed and we all started paying more attention to what was happening and how quickly it was happening. Every day there was a new decree, limiting our mobility more every day, until we arrived at the only acceptable reasons to be outside were to go to the pharmacy or the grocery store or walk your dog. Over the last few weeks life has become claustrophobic…and most of us don’t have a yard to which we can escape the smothering walls of our homes.

Down south we have watched reports in horror of the heartbreaking tragedy that is occurring in the devastated north, while our own numbers continue to rise. Gurneys with the sick fill hospitals to overflowing capacities. Because there is no more room for the sick many are at home without medical treatment. People are dying alone or with only strangers surrounding them. Caskets fill cemeteries and crematoriums, waiting for burial or cremation. It is horrific and heartbreaking. And it would be so easy to give in to the fear that rages outside the door. To be quite honest, the last week has been the hardest so far. Not so much with keeping fear at bay but with coping with numbers that refused to quit rising, I have had an overwhelming sense of sadness.

A song my friend, Jennifer, wrote several years ago has been on repeat in my mind in these days. The song was originally written after she and her husband lost a close friend, and I find the words to be like balm to my hurting heart, reminding me of God’s greatness, goodness, steadfastness, and nearness. The title is Grief, and below are some of the lyrics.

Sadness is everywhere Anger fills our souls It seems more than we can bear And we’re losing control It’s not the end of the story There’s so much more of it to be told Somehow You’ll use this for Your glory You won’t leave us wounded, jilted or alone Life is so fragile It’s here and then it’s gone But we can’t be fearful This world is not our home So we will be glad We will rejoice Even in our darkness We will make the choice To live in Your love Your comfort and peace Until we are restored And death has met defeat

Even though there is sadness and grief, there is hope. We don’t have to welcome in the fear that is knocking on the door. How can we have hope when everything around us reeks of fear and chaos and sadness and loss? My response is similar to what I told my son a few nights ago when he asked why God would let the Coronavirus happen or when my daughter confessed her fears. We remember that God is who He says He is. The Coronavirus has not changed Him. He is good and He has a purpose. He holds all things in His hands. We put our hope not in doctors and governments and face masks, but in God, who is in control of it all.

So on those days when the sadness is overwhelming, I will let myself feel that sadness and I will grieve the incredible loss of life. But I will also cling to the hope and rest I find in Christ, remembering in whom I find my joy even in the midst of sorrow. Even in this darkness, I will make the choice to live in His love, His comfort and peace.

Lyrics used with permission from Jennifer Smith.

Today’s post contains musings, thoughts, and insights into what has become our new normal for the foreseeable future. This is NOT a list of “How to’s” for surviving the Coronavirus. It’s meant to make you laugh, or at a minimum chuckle, and at some points to make you think, at least at a minimum. It is not something that will ever get picked up by TGC, Acts 29, BlogHer, or any other website. It is a bunch of random thoughts after 15 days of being inside. So for your reading pleasure, I give you a list of musings, thoughts, and insights…

1. I wonder if all the homeschooling folks out there have chuckled a little bit as all the parents in the whole world (an exaggeration, I know, but it’s close to accurate) who said they would/could never homeschool their kids have become homeschooling parents over night. We should all have shirts that say “Never Say Never!”

2. Trying to not go Ape Crazy on the kids/spouse. This is a hard one at times. Perhaps for you it is trying to help your kids with math but you have zero idea what Common Core math is so you teach them to carry the 1 because that MAKES SENSE. Things that make me want to acutally go Ape Crazy are 1. Schoolwork that won’t upload or download 2. I cannot understand Lil’ Paul’s homework (Italian) 3. Google translate is zero help with before mentioned Italian homework. 4. Kids constantly fighting (there are times I feel more like a WWE referee than a mom, but a referee that gets taken down in the middle of the fight). There are more, but nobody needs to know everything about me and my inner Ape. What can one do to keep the Ape inside and calm the angry beast down? Well, my inner Ape responds well to Paul giving me a “your inner Ape is rearing and you need to get it back in its cage” look; music by Shane and Shane (I know they’ve been around forever but with harmonies that are crazy (not Ape Crazy) good and actual biblical truth in their songs most of their older music is better than other people’s new music); praying; working out; reading my Bible consistently and not just when I’m having a bad day; finding a quiet spot for a few minutes; remembering God lovingly responds to me in grace and the inner Ape does NOT respond gracefully – it’s sin-filled ugliness and needs to go away. If the inner beast then is a manifestation of my sin, the goal isn’t to pacify the Ape and keep it at bay by throwing it a banana every once in a while, but for the Ape to cease to exist. This is only possible by looking more and more like Jesus every day (sanctification) so that eventually there is not a beast that needs to be pacified. This is one reason praying and reading the bible consistently is essential. The Ape needs to die.

3. Don’t be overwhelmed by all the freebies people are posting. It is amazingly awesome all the things schooling websites, zoos, museums, Mo Willems, and a host of other people/organizations are offering for kids and adults alike right now. But I’ll be honest, it has also made my head swirl. We just pick a couple and stick with them until we get bored. The ones we most enjoy at the moment are artforkids.com and Mo Willems, and I now wonder why it took me so long to be able to draw a few shapes, connected with some lines, add some witty dialogue and boom! Kids book done. Oh, that’s right, the creative side of my brain doesn’t really know how to draw without a how-do guide.

4. Make a schedule. This is so helpful, and I’m not sure why it was Day 13 before I thought to do it. Don’t be like me. A schedule is something we can control…but not really. It gives us the illusion of control. Sure, we can make a color-coded schedule and hang it on the fridge for all to see but everybody actually sticking to it (including its maker) is another thing, right? See, you might be in control of making that fancy rainbow colored schedule and perhaps even a bit in keeping to it but you can’t control all aspects of it. Just like we aren’t really in control OF ANYTHING. It’s an illusion, which is the first lesson the Coronavirus has taught us, right? But God being in control is not an illusion. The God/man who calmed the waves and rain and wind … he doesn’t need things like rainbow colored schedules. And that, in a time of chaos and confusion, gives peace and calmness. But go ahead and make the schedule because it helps you and your household stay sane and know what the day should look like even if the day doesn’t stick to all the colors of the rainbow colored schedule.

5. Call, text, email people. I’ll be honest, at the beginning of all this I thought it’d be hard but not so bad that I would find myself crying in the kitchen in the afternoons, frantically trying to get some Shane and Shane turned on. It’s the isolation from people that’s the hardest, even though I am constantly surrounded by three people. Constantly. Surrounded. By. People. I call or text an insane amount of people every day…or so it feels. We are beginning to crave interaction with other people and phone calls and texting and zooming just don’t feel the void quite as well as face-to-face interaction. God did not create us to be islands. We were created for relationship, foremost with Him, and then one another. There’s a reason it was not good for Adam to be alone. As hard as it is for me, I am reminded that I have my family, who I like as well as love the majority of the day. But we have teammates and friends who are single. As hard as the isolation is for us, it’s harder for them. So call, text, email, zoom, skype, FaceTime…do all the things to help others feel connected and not alone.

6. Endless Amounts of Time With Kids/Spouse. At the beginning of all the lockdowns, this sounded awesome. Finally, you can do all the things that you’ve wanted to do together. Then reality hits. Your boss expects you to maintain normal work hours while simultaneously homeschooling/refereeing your kids/entertaining your kids/making three meals a day/cleaning up after the three meals a day. You are busier than you thought you’d be. But, take time for the family. Or if you are single, take time for yourself. Play, create, be silly, go on an in-house date, laugh, read together. Do do the things you always wanted to do, but let’s go easy on ourselves. Let’s pick one thing and actually do that one thing. Then another and another. Let’s stay off social media and Pinterest that can make us feel less than because we aren’t doing all the things that others are doing. We have time, yes, but let’s make sure we are purposeful with our time.

7. Getting ready for the day is now optional. Where do I even begin with this one? Showering every day? Nope. I count it a win if my teeth get brushed and I can remember to put on deodorant. I repeatedly find that I wake up in the same clothes I had on the day before and quite possibly the day before that. My husband is thrilled with this new development in my hygiene. Kids want a pajama day? Why not? yesterday we did school as Star Wars characters, which was actually pretty awesome and highly recommended. I don’t recommend the lack of hygiene that I am currently displaying. On the days when I have actually put on something other than workout clothes or jogging pants or pjs I feel so much better. Even if I know I’m only going to see grocery store workers or the other three people in my house, putting real clothes on helps the psyche so much. Even if you are business up top and pjs on the bottom for a business call or church or just talking to your momma, make the effort. In other words, don’t be like me.

8. Dance. Have a good ole dance party. Why not? Turn on some Prince and dance likes it’s 1999. Let your hair down and your inner Justin Timberlake or Shakira out for a bit. It’ll make you feel tons better because there is no way you can get your groove on to your favorite jam and not feel better. Better yet, choreograph a dance, send it to your closest friends (those that WON’T post it to social media without your consent) and challenge them to a dance off. I tried to get Paul to learn the “I Had the Time of My Life” dance from Dirty Dancing but he wasn’t so keen on the idea, even after I proved to him that I already know about half of it from memory.

That’s it. That’s my huge, long list of thoughts, musings and insights. Perhaps my writing will become more regular now that I have all this free time on my hands…oh, wait, I forgot for a moment that I am now homeschooling two children so never mind. I don’t have time to write and you, being a homeschooling parent now as well, don’t have time to read it.

Sunday night Gingernut and one of our teammates daughters had their first dance recital. It was spectacularly wonderful. Gingernut radiantly beamed as she performed the moves she had spent months rehearsing. I was filled with emotion and pride as I watched her every move across the brightly lit stage.

It is things like dance recitals and soccer games that make you miss having family around. I saw grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins…all for the other dancers. As we stood in line outside the auditorium, waiting to run like we were in Pamplona about to be trampled by bulls all in efforts to get good seats, I saw one-by-one different people from our community arrive to see two little girls dance.

And I was overwhelmed. These weren’t just teammates and friends but my community – my extended family.

I just read an article on The Gospel Coalition that addressed the number one why missionaries leave the field. In a nutshell, it’s the people they work with – their team.

I’ve seen how not having a team is not beneficial – we weren’t meant to work in silos. After all, no man is an island. Our biblical example is that we work with others. From the beginning God saw that it was not good for man to be alone.

However, being on a team does not automatically mean that you have community and will work together to achieve the same goals. Don’t believe me? Have you ever seen a sports team NOT work together? I spent an entire year watching Lil’ Paul play soccer on a team in which every kid played individualistically. They all wanted to win but they all wanted to be the one who scored, going so far as to steal the ball from their own players during games. Yes, it was sometimes quite painful to watch.

I’ve also seen and been a part of teams that not only work well together but have community, and it is a wonderfully, beautiful thing. There is the sharing of burdens and cares, laughter and fun, tears and hugs, conflict and resolution. What emerges from it all is a surrogate family.

I saw this play itself out Sunday night, as surrogate aunts and uncles gave up an evening of rest after a long day to cheer on two little ballerinas as they danced across the brightly lit stage.

Truth.

Love.

Two very good things, that are very often separated.

A while back – like well over a year ago – my good friends/mentors/truth-tellers/pointers-back-to-the-Gospel, etc. Vince and Sharon clued me in on the fact that I am a glass half empty kinda gal. I was shocked and appalled. Nope. No way. I have always seen myself the other way – with the glass being half full. What they meant was that I am more of a realist than my glass-half-full-hopeful husband. I finally accepted the truth about it, acknowledging that once again Vince and Sharon were 100% correct.

What does any of this have to do with truth and love? Wait for it…I’m getting there.

Fast forward to a few months ago….After a somewhat painful conversation, I realized and truly understood for the first time that I am blunt. Shocker, I know. I am quite straightforward. But in my defense, so are all my close family members so I come by it quite honestly. To-the-pointedness, bluntness, straightforwardness – whatever you want to call it – is all fine and good unless it is done so with no kindness or love or understanding or any combination thereof.

One guess as to whether I was communicating things lovingly….

Keep fast forwarding to a few weeks ago….As I worked my way through Abide: A Study of 1, 2, & 3 John by Jen Wilkin, I was once again hit with the truth and love thing. There it was…glaring at me from the page…daring me to skip over it without reflection and prayer.

And this is what the reflection and prayer has awoken me to: because I live in a half-glass-empty realist world I can tend to communicate things in manner that does not consider the person sitting across from me. Depending on who that is, my communication can be seen as unloving and uncaring…even if it isn’t meant that way.

It’s all fine and good for me (or you) to be a truth-teller and to be to the point in that truth-telling. HOWEVER….it MUST be accompanied with LOVE. We must not only know ourselves and how we communicate but how the person across from us receives communication so that truth can be communicated clearly and LOVINGLY.

Does that mean holding my tongue sometimes? YES! Does that mean I have to think before I open my mouth all the time? YES! Does it mean that I have to have a filter? A resounding YES! Does it mean that I must actually think about the other person above myself? YES! YES! and YES!

It is in these moments that I sit in wonder and awe and gratitude for the Gospel and the grace and forgiveness I find there. I rest in the knowledge that the Holy Spirit reveals my sin in order to lead me to acknowledgement and repentance of that sin. His work does not stop there but continues to draw me closer to Him so that I look more like my Creator, in whose image I was created in and am to reflect…and I’m pretty sure He speaks in truth and love.

2 John 1:3 Grace, mercy, and peace will be with us, from God the Father and from Jesus Christ the Father’s Son, in truth and love.

 

Home…

That word has become relative to me in some ways.

As a child, my home was with my parents and sisters and brother in McAdams, MS. It was a picturesque home from my point of view. The house was and still is surrounded by green fields that once housed cows and horses and the occasional goat that thought it was a cow. The house itself was filled with everything most houses with four children are filled with…laughs, yelling, games…and probably lots of clutter to my mother’s chagrin.

Even when I left home to go to college and then graduate school, the red brick house on a hill remained home. And to a degree is always will be.

After I married, home also became Ruston, Louisiana. My in-laws welcomed me into their family with open arms, as did the rest of Paul’s family. Their easy ways, huge and lingering hugs, and incredibly sweet dachshund, Abbey, endeared Paul’s parents to me from the time I first stepped into their house.

We spent the early years of our marriage bouncing around. We lived in so many different places (TX, VA, Italy), sometimes for a few weeks and sometimes for a few years. But it wasn’t until we settled in Winston-Salem, NC that I felt like we had found a place that we could make a home together and not worry about moving for a long time. We bought a three bedroom house with green siding and black shutters. There was large yard for the kids to play in and blueberry bushes lining the driveway. We opened our home and really learned what it means to live life with people. We shared meals, sipped coffee, cried and laughed with people who transitioned from people I barely knew to friends to family. And though we had put down roots and were settled in Winston, God had other plans. We were to move yet again. It almost goes without saying that leaving this home was one of the most difficult goodbyes we have made thus far in our lives.

We now live in Salerno, Italy. We have returned to the place that has held our hearts for so many years.  Over the last two years our two bedroom apartment, with its covered terrace and broken tile in the dining room and kitchen, has become home. We find ourselves living life much the same way we did in Winston – with many people coming in and out of our house, sharing meals, coffee or tea, and their lives with us.

We have spent the summer traveling to all our different homes, enjoying every single minute of it. But it isn’t the houses or towns/cities that we have been in that have made it home. It’s people. The relationships that we have with people from Texas to North Carolina will make each of those places home as long as we know them.

However, my heart longs for my home in Salerno. It longs for those people that I share my life with there. And when I am there, though I am “at home”, I will long for the people I once shared my life with on this side of the world.