Tag Archives: hope

Ellis Island: Stories of Our Past and Present

What is more representative of America than New York City? I was going to write that a trip to New York is the quintessential American experience, but the United States of America is too broad and too mulita-faceted for me to make that statement. Still, the diversity within New York is a fantastic sampling of the cultures and subcultures with the U.S. as a whole, and the city’s history and modern status makes it the perfect place for one to begin a journey through the States.

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Appropriately, just as my journey home from the Caribbean begins in New York, my ancestors’ journey from Europe also began here.

Statue of LibertyThe sight of the Statue of Liberty inspires me. It inspires me because it is a timeless representation of what the United States is supposed to be. No matter what political trends rise and fall, Lady Liberty stands at the edge of sea, beaconing the traveler and lighting the way to a place of hope. She inspires me because she is what America is, and the hope that America embodies. This is the first sight of our nations shores that my ancestors saw those many decades ago, and she still stands to welcome the immigrants of today. I hope that we never forget that most of our families came to these shores as immigrants and refugees from other places. I hope we won’t forget that it was once our great-grandparents who arrived, footsore and travel weary, hoping for a better life. Maybe the memory of our own narrative will help us to see the humanity in the great crowds who stand knocking at our gates and give us hearts of compassion.

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Those of us who have ancestors who arrived in the United States before 1954 have likely had at least one family member come through the processing center on Ellis Island. For me, the trip to the Ellis Island Museum was significant because I have many ancestors who came through this location. Although I know only a few names, it was amazing to me to stand in the same places that my first American family members stood. After learning about everything it took for people to make it to America and get through Ellis Island, I am in awe of how brave these men and women were. Today, although processes have changed, the people who have the tenacity and drive to make it here and thrive in an unfamiliar culture still must overcome a lot. I have a lot of respect for people who are brave enough to do that, and I’m thankful for my ancestors who made that leap for their children, grandchildren, and me. ellis island family

Two of my ancestors who traveled from Europe through Ellis Island are my great great great grandpa Nicholas Kocina and his wife,  Anna Kocina. Nicholas was Austrian and Anna was Czech. They arrived in the United States in the late 1800s and lived in Chicago before they settled in a Czech community in Nebraska. I tried to imagine what it must have been like for them to climb these stairs and enter the registry room. Although it was fairly empty when we visited, it was absolutely bursting with people when they arrived. IMG_4033 IMG_4036

Besides the Kocinas, my family arrived in the United States from Germany, Ireland, Norway, and England. Most of them came through Ellis Island,  I assume.

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Even more than the history of Ellis Island, I was very interested in the modern refugee and immigration exhibit. I’m working on a master’s in Refugee Protection and Forced Migration Studies, so I was able to glean a lot of useful information from the museum. The issues of refugee asylum and immigration are hot-button topics in the U.S. right now, and I found that the Ellis Island Museum did an excellent job at presenting an informative and well-balanced look at the aspects. There are so many facets to these issues and it’s valuable to be able to hear a variety of voices on the matters, just as the museum presented.American FLag NYCIf you’re ever in New York City, I’d highly recommend a stop at the Ellis Island Museum. A short ferry ride past the Statue of Liberty will take you there. If you’re short on time, bypassing a tour of the statue and opting for Ellis Island is well worth it. Come discover our nation’s past, our present, and our hope for the future.

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It’s Always Goodbye

Marrying into a missionary family is hard. It’s the most wonderful thing in almost every way, but it is so hard to always have to say goodbye. For third culture kids, who grew up in another culture and lived a life of transition and change, goodbyes have always been a part of life. Ben and his family are all third culture kids, with the exception of myself and two other in-laws. They’re so used to this goodbye thing, and they’re so good at it. They know how to leave with grace and meet up again and start right where they left off. I’m not good at good byes. They are the hardest thing in the world for me.

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This last Johnson family reunion has been particularly hard, because each family left one-by-one, and I was the last to go. Every time someone left, I’d say my goodbyes and then find somewhere to be alone and cry.

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The hardest people to say goodbye to are the kids, especially the littlest ones. We adults are okay at all staying in touch, despite lack of good internet. We video chat with them, and we write to them, and everybody’s on Facebook and email, but none of the nieces and nephews are old enough for that yet. We only get to see them when we actually see them. Since the Johnson family lives in six different countries, we see them only every couple of years. There’s a lot of growing up that happens during those years, and I’m missing it. I’ll meet a baby who’s crawling around on the floor, and the next time I see her, she’s running around the house and telling me all about her favorite princesses. I’m missing the little tea parties, I’m missing the end-of-school-year ice creams, I’m missing lazy Saturdays at the beach and dinners together. With every turn of the calendar is another two or three birthdays come and gone, and I wasn’t there.

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It stinks that I have to spend the first day or so of every family reunion getting to know the kids all over again. I have to gently let them warm up to me, and I have to re-introduce myself to the littlest ones for the second or third time. They have no idea that I think about them and miss them every day of their lives. And then when I finally get to see them, it’s for just a few days and then we’re all off to our own corners of the world again. How am I supposed to form close relationships like this? How am I supposed to be a significant part of their lives in I can’t even see them but once every two or three years? Even when we do move to Africa, we’ll only live near one or two families at a time. And by the time we get there, the oldest ones will be in high school. Sometimes I wonder, will that be too late? Will I have missed out entirely by then? It’s not fair to love someone so much and to be so far away. I have to let my heart break over them again and again.

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In my perfect world, Ben’s whole family and my whole family would all live in the same place as us. We’re so lucky that everyone on both sides gets along and genuinely likes each other, and I just wish we could take advantage of that all the time! We’d have big family dinners every week. We’d share all the holidays. I’d get one-on-one time with every kid. I’d get to hang out all the time with our parents, my sister and Ben’s siblings. And nobody would have to say goodbye.

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I’ve learned something important about goodbyes from my TCK family: goodbyes are never forever. Even if my dream of being close geographically will never come true while we’re alive, Jesus’ death and resurrection has made it possible for us all to live that way forever in Heaven. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying about goodbyes, but focusing on eternity rather than this temporary situation will help me to cope with this ever-transient lifestyle we live. Furthermore, it will keep my eyes on Jesus and on the end goal of glorifying the Lord and enjoying him forever. When that day comes, I’ll spend all eternity worshipping the Lord with my family—and never have to say goodbye again. What a beautiful hope.

Dreams of Tomorrow

I believe that every bad quality can become something positive. Stubborn people know how to stand their ground. Argumentative people make great lawyers. Messy kids grow up to be creative adults.

I always thought I was discontent. My parents gave me the opportunity to travel the United States (the plan is to visit every state before we die; I still have ten to go). Every time we went somewhere, I’d leave begging my dad from the back seat, “Can’t we just move here? Why can’t we live here? Wouldn’t it be cool to live by Such and Such National Park? Wouldn’t it be cool to get RAIN sometimes? The baseball team here is so much better than the Diamondbacks! Can we move here? Why not?” There was nothing wrong with living in Phoenix. I had a great house and a great community. I just wanted something… different. I thought I was ridiculously discontent, and I probably was. It was something I had to pray about and work through. But maybe the root of my interest in moving somewhere else wasn’t really a contentment problem. Maybe the root of it all was my wanderlust, and I just didn’t know how to productively channel it yet.

I still feel that wanderlust. I still feel restless and look forward to going somewhere new. According to my college psychology textbooks, I’m going to outgrow it in about five years. Despite what the experts say, I doubt that it will ever leave me. I’ve tasted the expat life, and I don’t know if I can ever go back and put down roots. Even here, on the tropical island of Saint Martin, I feel a restlessness. I want to peek behind the curtain and find out what comes next. I want to sell stuff, pack, and move again. I want to discover someplace new.

Some of my most breathtaking moments are sunsets after surfing. I like to paddle out away from the waves, sit on my board, and watch the golden highlights play over the azure surface of the water. I love to watch the blue sky turn slowly cotton-candy pink, reflecting in pastel colors on the waves. Yesterday, as I watched the sun set behind the hills of the island, I couldn’t help but realize how lucky I am to be able to experience such a moment. I felt like God was painting a watercolor masterpiece just for me. How many times will I surf at sunset over our two years here? Fifty, maybe? A hundred? I wonder what it will be like to say goodbye to these tropical evenings.

Do you want to know the truth? I’m OK with knowing that this won’t last for the rest of my life. I’m OK knowing that I’ll have to sell my board in a few months. I don’t mind that I probably will never live on an island again. I’m OK with a limited number of ocean sunsets. I can’t imagine a more wonderful place to live than Saint Martin, and I love being here. But there’s so much more out there to discover. I want to spend as many days as possible watching the sun set over the waves while I live here, but I also want to watch it set over the buildings of Prague someday. I want to stargaze from the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I want to reach the top of Kilimanjaro. I want to ride a train in Toronto with my friends and a whole passel of Little League boys. I want to go to a K-Pop concert, a Sydney opera, and a Broadway show. I want to snorkel the Great Barrier Reef.

In a year and a half, Ben’s medical school basic science classes will end and we’ll move again, this time for his clinical rotations. According to those who have gone before, we have virtually zero control over where we go, and we won’t know where we’re going until it’s almost time to leave. We could be moving states every month or so for two years. You know what? I think I’m OK with that. I might even be looking forward to it. There’s so much to experience in this great big world of ours, and I’m ready to take it on.

I Look to a Day When….

Few people have had as much impact on the racial element of American culture as Martin Luther King, Jr. I remember the first time I listened to his speech… not heard, but really listened. It sent shivers up and down my spine. Joy rose in my heart as I recognized the steps we’ve taken as a nation and longing tugged at my heart as I realized what a long way we still have to go.

If I’ve learned anything about race and culture, it is that valuing differences in culture and skin color is key to ethnic harmony. We sometimes try to pretend that there’s no differences among us. But that is not a solution, and it does nothing to facilitate relationships and understanding.

We’re different. Everybody, every culture, every color.

It’s beautiful.

Let’s start appreciating.

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Culture is the most beautiful and fascinating thing I have encountered in my life. It’s amazing to see the diversity among humankind. So many different faces, so many different foods, so many different ways to do life.

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I love what the Bible says about ethnic diversity. Historically, we know that many people have shamefully used the scriptures as an excuse for racism. Those people obviously never read the book. My favorite passage of the Bible is the the 21st and 22nd chapter of Revelation. In it, the author describes what the world will be like after the end of the world as we know it and the beginning of the new order. The Bible teaches that eventually, God will remake the earth and remove all the bad from it. Then, he will come and live on earth with us in a beautiful city. Here and elsewhere in the Bible, “nations” is a translation of the Greek word “ethne,” meaning people groups of ethnic groups.

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“After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the Lamb [the Lamb is a name for Jesus]… and and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’…They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne shall be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” Revelation 7:9-17

“And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb . By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into in and its gates will never be shut by day– and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and honor of the nations. But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life.” Revelation 21:22-27

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This is good news for all of us. First it tells us that God is a big fan of our diversity. Why would he have created it otherwise? Secondly, it tells us that our diversity will remain in Heaven and beyond. Third, it comforts us with the promise that all of God’s children who ever been abandoned, hurt, abused, or shunned based on race will be accepted, healed, cared for, and loved by God. What a promise; what a future to look forward to.

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“I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

I may not live to see a day when this is true for our world. But I hold to the promise that I will see that day in Heaven.