About a year ago, I finally painted a long-bare canvas. I inscribed on it a poem I’d written. This art piece was in memory of our heaven-dwelling babies. I’ve had this canvas in my office at school all year. It’s precariously balanced on an electrical outlet, waiting to be more securely attached to the wall.

Today, that canvas fell, not for the first time, but this time, it met the corner of my desk, resulting in a gash. I was meeting with a student at the time. At first I was bewildered, then angry, then deaf to all that Beka was saying. And then I started crying. I don’t think poor Beka quite knew what to do. I wanted to show my broken canvas to Mari Ellen—she’d appreciated this piece of memorial lament—but she wasn’t there to sorrow with me.

That canvas is the most personally significant memorial I have of my kids. Seeing it abruptly torn, jerked to the surface my hibernating sorrow. For the rest of the day, I was exhausted and slow-moving. It’s funny how such a small thing can summon the heavy, familiar weight of grief. I didn’t expect this small incident to cause such a strong reaction.

Tomorrow, I’ll be participating in the Senior Transition Seminar. It’s a time for Seniors to process saying goodbye to BFA and transitioning to college life. I’ll be talking to the girls about relationships in college. Tonight, while thinking over what to say, my thoughts turned to all of the girls who I’ll be interacting with.

I like these 30 girls. A lot.

I have one month left with them. One more month to enjoy their smiles. One more month to hear their thoughts. One more month to laugh until I cry at their quirky humor. One more month to hug them. One more month share their lives while I can touch and see and smell and hold them. And then they’ll be gone. Off to places all across the world. I may never see them again. And that makes me so very sad. I don’t want BFA sans them.

I was thinking, just before writing this post, about that torn canvas and how sad it made me, how it affected my day. And I rather surprised myself by saying, “Thank you God that I’m sad about that canvas.” I had to consider why I was thankful.

Thank you, God, that I loved, and love, my children. Thank you, God, that I remember them through art. Thank you that these things are meaningful to me because these people are meaningful to me. Thank you that my life is filled with people I love. Thank you, God, that I care about these senior girls, who will soon be moving on to bigger and better things. Thank you that I will miss them. Thank you, God, that my hurt comes from deep love. Thank you for filling my life with things so good, people so good, that I miss them when they’re gone.

It’s time for our Home Assignment — a rather technical term for visiting family and friends and raising more support. We’re both excited and overwhelmed at the thought of being in the States this summer. We’re eager to reconnect with our family, our friends, our church. We’re looking forward to Chik-fil-a, english books, and the english language! But we’re not so sure about the heat, the trying to condense two years of life into a few minutes, and the grueling travel schedule. I expect this summer will give us a more full picture of what it means to live between two worlds, to love two worlds.

So, we’ll spend two months in Arkansas, Texas, Oklahoma, Chicago and Colorado. While we’re there, we want to catch up with all of the America-dwellers we love. That means you! So, if you live in any of these places, or will be traveling through, we would love to have a cup of coffee (or two) with you and hear all about your lives. We might not be back in the States for another two years, so we want to see as many folks as we can.

Our Schedule

• June 9th – Fly to America!
• June 10 – 23 – Arkansas
• June 24 – July 2 – Muskogee and Tulsa, Oklahoma
• July 3 – 9 – Chicago, IL
• July 10 – 17 – Bonham and Dallas, TX
• July 18 – 24 – Colorado
• July 25 – August 7 – Arkansas
• August 8 – Return to Germany! We hope!

Let’s schedule a get-together sooner rather than later!

How You Can Help

We have a few needs for our time in the states. Here are some of the ways you might be able to help.

• Support

  This is one of our primary needs. We need to raise 50% of our support, or $2,300 more a month. We’re trying not to let that number intimidate us. Our goal is to return back to our beloved Black Forest Academy in early August, but if we haven’t raised enough support, we’ll have to delay our return. We’ll see what God has in store. We hope to meet with many new folks about joining our support team. We’d love for you to start considering joining our support team, or even increasing your support.

  There are some other ways you could help us raise support as well. You can host a dessert night for some friends, where we can share our ministry. You can refer some folks who you think might be interested in what we’re doing. You can invite us to your Sunday School class, Community Group or Church.

• Prayer

  Pray for new and increased supporters! Pray for safe and easy travels (we’ll be doing a lot of it). Pray for energy. Pray for God perspectives on our circumstances, whatever they might be. Pray that we’ll be a blessing.

• Housing and Transportation

  If you live in Arkansas, we’re in need of housing and a vehicle. We’ll be in Arkansas from June 9th to 23rd, and from July 25th to August 7th. We need a place to stay and a car to get us around. If we need to, we’re more than willing to move around during this time. If you have a room, an apartment, or a car that might be an option for us, please let us know.

Let the Story Sharing Begin

We’ve had an incredible, life-changing, oh-so-hard-but-oh-so-good two years in Germany. We can’t wait to share our experiences with you, whom we love and cherish. We can’t wait to hear how you’ve grown and changed these past two years. We can’t wait to share our love of BFA, and the stories we’ve made.

See you soon!

Grief is like pea soup. It’s thick, it’s heavy, and, Israel would say, it tastes like dirt.

A little over a week ago, a friend and BFA colleague passed away unexpectedly. Mari Ellen Reeser had worked at BFA for over 20 years. Most recently, she was BFA’s sole counselor.

Mari Ellen was my friend. We lived in her house last year, and I was terrified of her. That year was incredibly difficult, and I felt so very guilty about the state of our home. It wasn’t clean, and we’d managed to break more things in those few months than I had in my entire life. But Mari Ellen was gracious. She wrote in an email, “PEOPLE are always more important than THINGS!! It’s the invisible things (like souls!) which are eternal. The visible is passing away!!”

When Israel and I finally met Mari Ellen in a local cafe, I was shocked by how very loud she was and by how often she laughed—loudly.

Over the past year, Mari Ellen has been my safe place, my sanity. I’ve had a lot of conversations with girls about things I was required to report. I hate reporting. It feels like a betrayal. But I can’t think of a better person to report to than Mari Ellen. She was ever gracious. She was always loving. She was always patient. She did was what necessary, and she did what was best.

Most of the “reported” girls didn’t like Mari Ellen. They felt threatened by her. She was the bad guy. Apart from their one or two required meetings with Mari Ellen, they usually chose to see me exclusively. But Mari Ellen didn’t seem to mind. She was never jealous, or petty, or unkind. She wanted to work through the avenues that God was using, whether that was me, her, or someone else.

Mari Ellen was the only person I could talk with openly about my girls. With her, I didn’t have to disguise identities, talk around an issue, or be vague. I could express my confusion, and hurt, and heartache about the pain and suffering these girls experienced. She always offered advice on how to proceed. She always encouraged me in the ways that God was working in and through me. She always prayed for me and for our students.

I’ve only really felt the loss of Mari Ellen once so far. It stills seems unreal that she’s not here. I expect that it will begin to seem very real tomorrow, while attending her memorial service. And the next day, when I meet with the students she cared for. And in a few weeks, when someone tells me something I’m required to report.

I am sad that Mari Ellen is no longer here. I am sad that she’s no longer here to care for our students. I’m sad that she’s left a hole in so many of my friends’ lives. I’m sad that she’s no longer just a few steps away, when it seems like all of my questions have meshed into one great knot that I’d like her to help untie.

But I’m not sad for her. She is dancing with the Holy Trinity now (an idea she once told me passionately about). She is holding my Blueberry and Beatrice until I can. She knows the complete healing and wholeness of eternity. As she referenced all those months ago, her visibleness has passed away, but her soul is eternal.

I wrote this poem over Christmas Break. Now seems like a good time to share it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t copy the formatting without hours of work, so you’ll have to read it as is.

A Boxing Day Reflection
By Dani Jernigan

There are moments
and days
and years
that are shot through
with such exquisite sadness
that they must be strings to somewhere else.

They must be threads
that tie the shattered and murky
to the solid and clear,
where there are answers to the
why? and
how long? and
how come?

Where every heartache
and teardrop
and bloody heart-spasm
is perfectly reflected as a glorious groan
that sings forth
honor
glory
redemption
love.

For when we are huddled
in masses on the ground,
alone and aching and raw,
there must be a holy reflection on the other side,
that shows someone beside us,
whispering words of comfort,
weeping tears of heartache,
giving embraces that don’t let go
until we awake
to see the arms that have been holding us
all along.

Surely,
each empty seat
twinkling light
hug from father to daughter
and belly swollen with promise
that makes my brittle heart creak
connects me to a pool
of longing
and hope
and expectation
that is millennia old
where ancient souls come
to remember their sadness
and rejoice
at their joy realized.

Surely,
each empty womb
branded cheek
bruised body
and whimpering child
flies to a bottomless pool of compassion
that forever hides in our Father’s heart,
where he comes
to remember his children
and their great cares,
where he weeps tears of
compassion
brokenness
love
that mingle with our own
to form a sadness so rich
it can only be holy
and precious
and meant for a place
where we are loved
and never alone
and always wanted.

May the balm of that place reach us even here.

I’m often confused, and sad, and overwhelmingly grateful for what God’s done and taught us and brought us through. I am often joyful and content. I don’t know what will happen, and I find myself struggling to learn to live fully in the now, without drifting into what might be, or numbing my heart to the desire, hope, and loss I feel.

I’ve had a lot of conversations lately about the value of pain, loss, and sadness. I don’t think God wants hurt and heartbreak for us; I do think he is gracious to us and redeems those things. So I find myself trying to explain why it is better to hurt than to feel nothing, to risk vulnerability than to protect yourself with loneliness, to love and lose than never love at all.

For myself, I would rather miss my children, than have none. I would rather be hurt by those I love, than protect myself in a shell of isolation. I think I would rather love others and risk hurting them, than protect both of us from the shame, and pain, and brokenness of sin. That seems to be the current fear I’m battling, screwing up in loving others; we so profoundly affect one another.

I find myself thinking about poetry. I find myself writing a lot of poetry, and wondering whether I should share it. I’ve been taking a ceramics class this year, and it’s been such a good outlet for me, a way to process and express life, and God, and growth. I’m thankful for music, and books, and quiet moments. I’m thankful for beauty.

I’m thankful for brokenness, because it is there that we find the wholeness of Christ. I’m thankful for spiritual family, for mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, who take up residence in our hearts. I’m thankful for biological/adopted/married family, who are always present, no matter what, and for the great opportunity they bring for hurt, healing, beauty, and love.

I’m thankful for courageous students who brave the unknown waters of confession, openness, heartache, hope, and healing. They inspire me and make me so inexpressibly thankful to serve a God who sees fits to let me know and love them.

I’m thankful for a husband who stands beside me, lifts me up, writes me notes, kisses me in public, and always smells yummy. I’m thankful that I’m already dreading graduation, when I will say goodbye to the many seniors who have become dear to me. I’m thankful to live in a place and do a job that lets me deeply love people, even though I know I will have to let them go in a few short months or years.

In short, I’m a great big bundle of hope and grief, joy and sadness, rejoicing and longing, connection and hesitation.

I’d never heard this song until a few weeks ago. It’s been running through my head a lot lately. Give Me Jesus, by All Sons & Daughters

You can listen below

• 
  

  On my mind:

  All Sons & Daughters - “Give Me Jesus”

  
  

Today is Sunday, the third day of our Christmas Break. I’m already wondering what to do with my time. I’ve grown unaccustomed to having free time. We’ve had one, maybe two, free weekends this semester. I’ve come home exhausted and emotionally spent nearly every day. We’ve coached volleyball (not me—ha!), subbed at dorms, attended school trips, had meetings, filmed stuff, had many a conversation, spoken in dorms, spoken in chapel, taught sex ed, made meals, served cider, and much, much more. We’re very tired, and very in need of this break.

Yet despite our exhaustion, I can only think of how very blessed I am. I am so very blessed.

God was gracious to us this semester—it was normal! There were no major life crises! We’ve been able to focus on our jobs without being weighed down with fresh grief, though there has been some less-than-fresh grief thrown in there.

My semester has been filled with God. God in me, God through me, God in other people. I’ve been daily amazed that I get to do what I do. I get to talk to girls all day—about boys, about home, about family, about heartache, about what it means to follow Jesus, about truth. This semester, I’ve been continually overwhelmed by the students I get to know and the conversations I get to have with them.

These students are amazing. They live all over the world. They speak multiple languages. They live between cultures. Their experiences have made them unique. They view the world through wide, open eyes. I love their uniqueness. I love their hearts more.

This has been a semester filled with serious issues. You name it, I’ve probably had a conversation about it—death, addiction, abuse, fear, loneliness, self-hatred. I’ve been privileged to be part of conversations about sin and suffering, brokenness and redemption, grief and healing. I’m honestly amazed that these girls talk to me (me!), that I get to speak into their lives, that they trust me. I’ve asked myself many times, why me? Why are you using me, God? Why are you blessing me with all of this goodness? Whatever the answers are to those questions, I’m grateful.

Two years ago, in this post, I said that I wanted to learn to love people better. In the past two years, God has taught me to love people better. Much of my learning has come through my own heartbreak, grief, brokenness and despair. Many of those lessons have also come through realizing what false love tends to look like in my life—a perverse desire to play Jesus to people, to save them myself rather than wanting him to do it. But I’ve also seen truer reflections of my Father’s love in my heart. I see greater hope and faith on other people’s behalf. I see greater patience. I see greater compassion. I see a greater willingness to put myself out there at the risk of being rejected or hurt. Praise God for his continued redemption!

I want to tell you all about these girls, who I love so very much. I want to tell you their stories and what God’s doing in their lives, but they’re not my stories to tell. I can’t tell you their stories without doing some serious permission-asking beforehand. Just know, dear friends, that these girls are precious. I get to weep and rejoice with them. I get to be frustrated when it seems like I’m pounding my head on a brick wall, and stand amazed when a kernel of truth takes root in their hearts. I get to share in their precious heartaches and stand witness to the slow, but steady, healing work of Jesus in those heartaches. I get to give coffee, and hugs, and makeovers, and conversation, and truth, and tears, and love. I get to know more about my Father’s love for me as I grow in love for these girls.

Jesus has been kind to me. I am utterly amazed. I wish I could sit down with you, a stack of photos, and a cup of coffee and tell you all about the girls I get to know and love. I wish you could meet them and share in the knowledge of their utter awesomeness, but until we’re on the other side of eternity, that probably won’t happen. So take my meager thanks instead.

Thank you, dear friends. Thank you for allowing us to be here. This has been the hardest, bestest place for us. This has been one of the most worthwhile things we’ve ever done. These kids are worth it. Jesus is at work here, in us, in these students, in the world. It feels inadequate every time I say this, but you really do allow us to be here. Your prayers, your giving, and your support are what keep us here. I feel overwhelmed with gratitude.

I really don’t care about Christmas gifts this year, and I think it’s because my heart is so full of precious gifts already. What more could I want?

Summer Happened

This summer was full. We did some manual labor, had family visit, and moved twice. July was filled with an intensive German course, which gave us a little more language confidence. Wir sprechen Deutsch ein bisschen besser. (If you speak German, you may be able to tell just how little better by that sentence.)

School’s back in session!

In late August, BFA started up again. We’re so glad not to be new this year! It’s wonderful to know how BFA operates, know what all those crazy acronyms mean, and best of all, to know students! God has already blessed us with some amazing, truth-filled, life-changing conversations with students.

Israel and the Screaming Girls

Israel is coaching JV Girl’s Volleyball this year. Last year he helped out, but now he’s an official coach. This means daily practices and traveling to games every weekend. Israel seems to be uniquely equipped, by his five sisters, to deal with all the screaming involved in a six hour bus ride with 20 teenage girls. He’s very much enjoying coaching, but it makes for a very tiring schedule.

Dani Goes to School

I am in my last few weeks of a Biblical Counseling class through the Christian Counseling and Educational Foundation. The class is called Foundations of Biblical Change and has been incredibly applicable, both to my own life and to my conversations with girls. Already this year, several girls have come to me with some pretty serious things, so the training I’m receiving through this class has been incredibly helpful. I hope to continue with more classes next semester.

Hello Long-Term Commitment?

Our initial commitment to BFA was for two years; this is our second year. Because it takes several months for BFA to fill empty positions, the school asks us to make next year’s commitment in October. A few weeks ago, we turned in a sheet of paper indicating that we would be at BFA next school year. We feel that we need to stay here until God tells us to go somewhere else. We’re excited about this decision and about being able to invest here longer term. This will mean more support raising this summer and, hopefully, more language learning, but we’re excited about the ways God will provide through these opportunities.

Pray for Us. Pretty Please!

• Busy, Busy, Busy — As our lack of updates indicate, we’re crazy busy! We’ve had very little free time since school started. We hope things will slow down a bit in mid-November, once volleyball and my class are over, but we’re already looking forward to Christmas Break.
• Chapel Talk — I, Dani, am speaking in High School Chapel on November 11th. I think I’ll be speaking about the miscarriages and what God’s been teaching me through them, but I don’t really know what “the point” of my talk is yet, partially because I’m still in the middle of this journey. I’m also sharing my story of dealing with sexual addiction in a dorm on Sunday. Prayer is much appreciated!
• Student Issues — God’s allowed us to join girls in pretty serious issues this year. We feel privileged to get to walk with them toward Jesus, but we can also feel rather helpless! We know, though, that Jesus is the only one who saves and changes. Pray for wisdom for us, and for redemption and salvation for the students!
• Summer and Future Plans – We’re still many months away, but summer will be upon us sooner than we think. This will mean travel, finding temporary housing and a car, and raising more support. We’re also in the process of deciding what direction to take for our family, whether fertility, adoption or something else.

We love you all! We’ll try to get another update out before Christmas!

2011 Grad Walk Out Tradition from Israel Jernigan on Vimeo.

BFA has a tradition at Grad every year—each pair gets to personalize their walk out. Here’s what happened yesterday. I moved around a couple times, so forgive the shakiness.

Senior Transition Day

In April, I had the privilege of participating in Senior Transition Day. It was a day meant to help prepare them for transitioning to their passport countries. The day covered topics like building community, what it’s like to go to college as a Third Culture Kid, how to say goodbye to BFA, and how to say hello to America. The Seniors even received practical information about opening a bank account, what documents they need to take, and what to consider when getting a phone plan. I spoke on a panel just for the girls. We talked about managing your time and money, The Freshman 15, drinking, dating, boundaries, sex, extracurriculars and more. I was very excited to participate and greatly enjoyed my time with the girls. I hope the Seniors learned from this day; I certainly did. I walked away from Senior Transition Day with a greater appreciation for the immensity of the change these kids are about to encounter.

College is a big transition for everyone. For most people it means moving away from home, being on your own for the first time, learning to manage your money, your time, your weight, and a whole slew of other things. But BFA kids aren’t your average American teens. These are kids who’ve spent more of their time speaking French than English, who grew up using the British Pound instead of the America Dollar, who know their shoe size as 41 rather than 9. The majority of the BFA Seniors have no bank account, no driver’s license and no idea how to pay their bills. For most Third Culture Kids, college is a HUGE transition.

Simple Question, Difficult Answer

For example, one of the questions I got asked most often during my first few weeks of college was, “Where are you from?” With BFA kids, I make a point not to ask this question. When I do, I get blank stares and then a slew of questions. “Do you mean in America? Where I’ve lived the longest? Where I live now? Where my parents are from?” Instead, I ask, “Where is your family now?” Can you imagine how challenging this seemingly simple question will be when they encounter it 500 times during their first week of college? Should they even try to explain?

Some TCKs have spent no more than a few months at a time in their passport country. They may speak the language, be an American (or Canadian, or Korean, or Australian) citizen, and look the part, but inside, they don’t feel American. They feel Turkish, or Italian, or probably a combination of all three. Finding out who you are is a difficult task for anyone, but for TCKs, there are whole other arenas of identity to figure out.

These students have rich, diverse, and distinctive histories, backgrounds and experiences. These aren’t your average American kids (I recently heard one student list off the seven languages that he speaks), they’re going to face more challenges than the average college freshman. But underneath all of the challenges are the same basic questions: Who am I? Where do I fit? What is my purpose?

Pray for Seniors

Could you pray for these seniors as they embark on the journey of adulthood?

Pray for courage. Pray for grace. Pray for patience.

Pray that they will be willing to ask for help, would be gracious with their fellow countrymen who might not understand, and would run to Jesus in their distress. Pray that they would know the nearness of God in the midst of what might seem like a vast loneliness. Pray that they would learn that He is their identity; He is their home.

Some prep photos for the last small group of the year. We are going to try white asparagus; It’s called Spargel in German!

Here’s a little video from one of the last times the small group of girls is meeting this semester. They went to the monument on the hill above Kandern. The other leader, Sue, is leaving after this semester. So she read a letter to the girls she had written them. It was a really good evening of being together and enjoying the outside.

Dani’s Small Group from Israel Jernigan on Vimeo.