In February 2012 Proskuneo Ministries opened the doors of the Proskuneo School of the Arts. I didn't know what I would teach, but I was there every Saturday morning cheering them on and capturing it all on film. And then it hit me - a grand idea. The next thing I knew I was the photography teacher for the Saturday morning Free-For-All. I had an amazing student who had a brilliant eye for photography. We spent a lot of time together and we talked about his dreams and ambitions. He had come to America as a refugee from Burma (Myanmar) but I didn't really know what that meant at the time. And I never asked his story. In January of 2013, he invited me to go with him to his Karen New Year's celebration. It was fascinating and I savored every moment, but I am ashamed to say that I still didn't ask him to tell me about it.
One night, several months after attending that celebration, I awoke suddenly from a dream. My face and pillow were soaked in my tears. I don't know that I had ever before wept in my dreams, but I did that night. God had stirred something in me that I could not shake. I woke up wanting to paint ... at 3:00 a.m. ... with my hands. What? Paint with my hands? Paint what? I had no idea what I was doing but I was driven. So I went downstairs and pulled a canvas from my cupboard, spread the paints out on the table and looked at the blank white surface in front of me. I thought for a moment that I had lost my mind. In my dream he came to me and said "they are sending me back there." The dream did not disturb me. It was his words that haunted me. I realized that I had walked alongside this young man for nearly nine months and I didn't even know where "there" was. So I pulled out my computer, pulled up google, and typed in "refugee camps in Thailand." My heart was immediately drawn in and I had to know more. So I read for an hour. Next I typed in "map of Burma." There it was. Right next to Thailand.
I cannot tell you why God chose to work in me the way that He did that night. All I can tell you is that my hands were covered with paint and I was pouring my sadness and my ignorance and my tears out on the canvas. At six in the morning I sent the young man an email that said, simply, "I realized tonight that I do not know your story. I would be honored if my you would sit with me and tell me your story." When I got home the next afternoon I had an answer. "I would be glad to tell you my story. And I am sure that you will LOVE my story." And I did. It changed my world.
My pain(I have not told you the full story here - I told it on my personal blog. Just click here "Comfortably Numb" if you want to read more. My painting from that night is displayed below. The blog post listed above will explain what it symbolizes. Please read on!
I have learned a lot about Burma since that night. I have met many friends from Burma. And I am starting to learn the Tedim language of the Zomi people. It is not easy, but I am determined. I want to visit Burma. When I listen to songs of the people of Burma my heart is there. I never dreamed that my heart would beat for another country but it does. The rhythm is strange to my ears but close to that of my heart. I would like to visit the refugee camps on Thailand's border as well. I have no doubt that God is connecting my heart for a reason.
One night, several months after attending that celebration, I awoke suddenly from a dream. My face and pillow were soaked in my tears. I don't know that I had ever before wept in my dreams, but I did that night. God had stirred something in me that I could not shake. I woke up wanting to paint ... at 3:00 a.m. ... with my hands. What? Paint with my hands? Paint what? I had no idea what I was doing but I was driven. So I went downstairs and pulled a canvas from my cupboard, spread the paints out on the table and looked at the blank white surface in front of me. I thought for a moment that I had lost my mind. In my dream he came to me and said "they are sending me back there." The dream did not disturb me. It was his words that haunted me. I realized that I had walked alongside this young man for nearly nine months and I didn't even know where "there" was. So I pulled out my computer, pulled up google, and typed in "refugee camps in Thailand." My heart was immediately drawn in and I had to know more. So I read for an hour. Next I typed in "map of Burma." There it was. Right next to Thailand.
I cannot tell you why God chose to work in me the way that He did that night. All I can tell you is that my hands were covered with paint and I was pouring my sadness and my ignorance and my tears out on the canvas. At six in the morning I sent the young man an email that said, simply, "I realized tonight that I do not know your story. I would be honored if my you would sit with me and tell me your story." When I got home the next afternoon I had an answer. "I would be glad to tell you my story. And I am sure that you will LOVE my story." And I did. It changed my world.
My pain(I have not told you the full story here - I told it on my personal blog. Just click here "Comfortably Numb" if you want to read more. My painting from that night is displayed below. The blog post listed above will explain what it symbolizes. Please read on!
I have learned a lot about Burma since that night. I have met many friends from Burma. And I am starting to learn the Tedim language of the Zomi people. It is not easy, but I am determined. I want to visit Burma. When I listen to songs of the people of Burma my heart is there. I never dreamed that my heart would beat for another country but it does. The rhythm is strange to my ears but close to that of my heart. I would like to visit the refugee camps on Thailand's border as well. I have no doubt that God is connecting my heart for a reason.