Ami Miller was not Born in America (Part 3)
I'm not sure if blog culture permits what I'm about to do.
Ami/Amreitha Miller commented on part two of the "Ami Miller was not Born in America" series and it is powerful. So, I'm posting it as the third installment of this series.
A. Miller's Response:
P- thank you again for writing this. this one was a tear jerker. thank you for being my friend as i go do one of the most important things i'll ever do in my life. thank you for letting me ask you all kinds of questions about your trip to sri lanka on the bus in Jordan...coming back from aquabah to ammon. i remember thinking my questions were so silly and i was kind of nervous to ask. but you answered all of them. this journey back to india makes me feel very lost. i want to grab a hold of something...like when you have to swim to the side of the pool to catch your breath. when you share about what sri lanka did in your life through stories and experiences, for some reason it helps me catch my breath. i thank Jesus for putting you in my life for such a time as this. really i do.
no one has ever come out and actually said it...i've never said it to myself...."Amreitha was abandoned by her parents." reading this hurt. i felt pain and sadness.
i've been taught and have this tendancy to always look at the positive. even though i was abandoned...i was found! adopted! i have lived a wonderful life with jesus, love, family...all kinds of goodness!
i never knew it was okay to let myself think and feel the truth of the matter...and that is that i was abandoned.
i say this so thankful for all that i have and i hope the following doesn't sound selfish, but with lots of tears, i admit for the first time publically that i wish so badly that i could meet my biological mother and father. i can physically feel my longing for them. in the past few months i have literally ached for something of my biological past. it doesn't have to be much. i'll take anything Lord. even a dream. i find myself every night asking God to provide a miracle and somehow allow me to see/meet them. i can't articulate why this is so important to me. i have wept until my pillow is soaked.....recently.
then i tell myself that just going back will be enough. after experiencing the culture, indian people and meeting my sister's family, the ache will go away. that will be enough.
i have this gut feeling that it won't be enough...in fact, it might make the ache worse.
i want to see someone that looks like me. i want to know if my mother and father loved each other when they had me. i want to know what happened after me. i want to know if they know the truth or if they are hindu. i want to know if i have siblings. i want to know where i get my dark skin, laugh, flat feet, birthmark and the list goes on. i want to be able to tell my children something about their biological grandparents and family. i want to know what family name i belong to. i want to know what i should be proud of from my history or generational curses that need to be broken.
i want to know if she, my mother, thinks about me. if she wonders about my life. what it was like for her to give me to esther. if she knows how curious i am about her and how much it would mean to me to meet her.
i wonder if she aches for me like i do her.
i know that going through this is very good. i agree with pradeep that in ordcer to move forward in my identity, i must wrestle with my past. i didn't know how hard it was going to be.
my pastor said last year this quote i'll never forget..."in order to understand your identity, you must go back to your beginning which will give you insight on your current reality." it's a loaded quote i know! God is literally taking me back to my beginning and i'm curious what all this is saying about my current reality.
P, thank you for the 7 tips! so good and so necessary. i will share them with my family.
altho it is hard, please know how excited i am about this trip and how reconnecting with my past is going to affect my life forever! for all the fears, there is much excitment. for all the questions, there will be SOME anwers! for all the late nights i've cried out to the Lord to meet my birth mother, i also can't sleep just anticipating what's to come with great joy and thankfulness in my heart for this incredible opportunity!
i am stoked!!!
pray for me and my family as we go back. pray for my sister as she deals with the internal struggles of meeting a father she's never known as a father.
pray that the lord will use us in india! i feel in my heart that we are going to minister as well as reconnect with our roots. pray that we are lead by the spirit and that we will seize every opportunity we get...from the oldest, my pilot father to the youngest, my 16 year old brother. pray for our protection and health. pray that we experience brand new facets of the Father's love for us and that we can share that affectively. pray that God uses this trip to bring breakthrough in our family...marriage issues, unity, etc. pray that we experience all that GOd has for us there. pray that as a family we keep our eyes fixed on jesus. pray that we are changed forever and carry a burden for india for the rest of our lives. pray for india. pray for the people there. pray for the christian church there. pray for kingdom relationship between my family and leslie's family...our church and theres.
pray that we lead people to christ!
pray that many will be saved through me and my sister's story/testimony...in india and america for the rest of our lives.
pray that even though i may never meet my biological family, i would be who God made me to be to the fullest! pray that i would be like Deborah...a woman of great wisom and a warrior for the nations of the world, for orphans, for injustice, for a generation and for the lost. pray that india frees me from all limitation and that i truly make a kingdom and eternal impact in the world. just like the ache i feel in my heart to know something of my biological past, i can also literally feel that i have so much love to give. it's overflowing! this part my sound kind of floofy....but i mean it. :)
it's very late and i have so many more thoughts running through my mind.
this is what i can share for now.
thanks for reading.
-amreitha
Ami Miller was not Born in America (Part 2)
(Amreitha/Ami is throwing a party for her India trip on Oct. 25th at the Pikes Perk in Colorado Springs. Come at 8pm. This clip is a big stretch to relate to this event and blog)
Three summers ago, I went to Sri Lanka for the first time.
It was on that island I left my teen-years and entered my twenties. It was on that island my sister, mother, aunts, uncle, grandparents and cousins were born and raised.
Connecting with my generational history and roots hugely impacted me. Frequently I asked myself, “What would I be like if was not born in Minnesota?” That’s a tough question considering my parents left Sri Lanka as refugees and entered America under political asylum. When they left Sri Lanka, they left a continuation of pain. I’ve heard stories of Tamil youth being kidnapped and enrolled in the military, killed or drawn to insanity because of the stress civil war brings. That could have been me.
During my three months in Sri lanka, that question plagued me. I looked into the eyes of desperation, poverty and pain. As I stood on a church altar facing a hundred crying faces during a machine gun and grenade fight 15 feet away, I had to wonder, “Why have I been given such a different fate than those around me?” As I rode a motorcycle through the streets while killers fled the police around us, I wondered, “Could I have been a killer?” As I talked to a man with the same age and birthday as me who had been rejected by his whole family because he dedicated his life to Christ and had not spoken with his father for years since, I wondered, “Like Moses was put in a foreign land to change a nation, is the LORD preparing me for reformation?”
Amreitha was abandoned by her parents.
I have no idea what that feels like. I have no idea what kind of questions she’s asking. I imagine there are many.
Where does she begin to ask questions and find answers? Within 24 hours of her birth she was put into the hands of Esther, her Mennonite adoption agent.
Well, I guess she starts by going to India. She’s going in November.
Her experience will be a lot different than mine. While her sister Leslie (the other adopted Indian girl) will meet her family for the first time, Amreitha will not (as things are right now). And just like the answers to her many questions (maybe question she doesn’t know to ask yet), her parents haven’t been identified and found.
I got to meet my grandparents, cousins, aunts and family friends in Sri Lanka. Amreitha may have none of that.
Amreitha’s will be an entirely different experience, but it is entirely necessary. In order to move on with identity issues and personal questions, I believe it is important to wrestle with your past. Jacob did not become Israel until he admitted that he was Jacob (Genesis 32).
Trips like this are hard—most worthwhile achievements and experiences should be, lest they become profane.
Here’s some advice I wish I would have gotten before I went to Sri Lanka (so that the experience isn’t harder than it needs to be) that I’ll pass on to Amreitha and anyone trying to connect with a culture:
1. Don’t be an arrogant American.
• I was. A lot changed inside of me because of Sri Lanka, but I wish I wouldn’t have been such a jerk. Little things show arrogance: not eating and finishing food, not spending time in the house, not asking questions and listening, not learning the language, thinking you know it all, dressing way better than everyone, thinking you are better, etc.
2. Be considerate.
• Realize that when people are taking you into their home, they want to be hospitable (especially if you are American). Even poorer people will bring expensive meals and desserts for you to eat. Please eat the food and enjoy it. Be mindful of you facial expression and body language. Clean and help out without asking, but don’t insist on helping. Sometimes insisting on paying for something or cleaning is an insult to the family (it would be insulting to reject a present on Christmas).
3. Enjoy every experience.
• Even if something is uncomfortable, it will become a great story later on. You’re time is limited on this trip and in life. We don’t have enough time to not enjoy every experience. Learn how to have joy—not just happiness. HAPPiness sometimes only comes when something HAPPENS. Learn to find joy in everything. If you are having a horrible time, your hosts will feel horrible.
4. Be a Learner.
• Ask tons of questions. Learn the language. Learn the customs. Learn names. Learn the national song. Learn the jokes, dances, traditions, history, etc. And when you learn it, write it down!
5. Pray for yourself and the people.
• The Holy Spirit will guide you into all Truth. Involve Him in the experience. Ask for insight and answers to questions about your identity and the identity of the people. Let Him take you by the hand as a tour guide into your land, history, generation curses, blessings and identity. He’s really good. Pray for the people and you will develop a love for them and see your prayers answered.
6. Be Sensitive.
• As a Christian, you are a light to the world. Not only will you receive much from this trip, but you must give. Freely live and freely give. Look for opportunities to share the Gospel, pray for the sick, answer questions, be a listener, give money, a hug, a side hug, an A frame hug, or a letter. Even though I wasn’t perfect in Sri Lanka, I saw legs grow and people get healed and saved.
7. Love the People.
• Love India, but pour that love out on individuals you meet. It’s easy for us to love something or humanity in general, but not really love any human in particular. Grow your love through prayer, interaction and tears.
These are some thoughts. Connecting with the past can be quite painful, but it is necessary for further progress. It’s hard to know where you’re going if you don’t know where you’ve come from. My three months in Sri Lanka completely changed my life and worldview. I don’t care if you are from China, India, Sri Lanka or Norway, visit your home. Ask questions. Seek Answers.
“He who seeks finds.” (Matthew 7:8)
If you have any more advice for travelers, culture connecters or Amreitha, leave a comment.
-Pradeepan
Ami Miller was not Born in America (Part 1)
My friend Ami Miller was not born in America.
Though, she grew up as a Mennonite (the closest you can get to being Amish) in a small town called Goessel in Kansas (pop. 556). Between her Kansas happy demeanor, pilot father, pastor uncle, farm knowledge, “small-town-big-heart” and pseudo Amish tendencies, you’d never know she was born in India.
Except for the fact she is very brown.
This fact typically requires her to submit follow-up information to the question, “where are you from?” America is a melting pot of origins and cultures, yet many do not believe dark toned people can be born in America.
This can be very annoying for people like me. When people ask me where I’m from I automatically say, “Minnesota/Sri Lanka.” The other day someone mentioned that my English was superb and my accent was flawless. “I didn’t expect to hear words like that come out of a mouth like yours,” she said. The face of America has changed dramatically, but old paradigms are still intact.
Many people assume I was not born in Hutchinson, Minnesota and they are wrong.
Many people assume Ami was not born in Kansas, and they are right.
Before we continue, know that her name her name is not Ami, though 99 plus percent of people who know her call her that. Her name is Amreitha.
She was left with a Mennonite orphan worker, hours after entering the world in Hyderbad, India. From that point on, she lived in an orphanage with several children (including one girl she still remembers, Leslie).
A family from Kansas fought four years to adopt her and the girl named Leslie. They both grew up on a small hobby farm as Mennonites.
Isn’t that incredible that a family who didn’t know these girls fought for four years to get them? That’s reckless love. I wonder how many people told them to give up, but they fought to give their love. When it comes to sharing the Gospel and loving our immediate families, so often we wait to respond to an opportunity. “LORD, please put someone in my path so I can share about your love,” or “LORD, “Give me an opportunity to love my brother when he acts so difficult and ignores me all the time.” I’m realizing more and more that true love is active and pursuing. By no means do I act on this all the time, but—slowly—I’m realizing it.
Amreitha grew up on a small hobby farm as a Mennonite. Because of the lack of Indian culture in Kansas, she never got in touch with her Desi (homeland) roots. For years this has caused a disconnect with her understanding of herself and the world. Yes, she went on choir tours with her schools, spoke at both her high school and college graduation, watched her adopted brothers play 8 man football (shout out to Bryant who is going to state this year), but she always was different—even if she didn’t act any different than her peers or realize it (subconsciously, she must have realized her dissimilarity because she has a passion for orphans and displaced children--last year, Amreitha worked for an adoption agency).
I know how it feels to be different. Growing up, I never felt fully Sri Lankan or Fully American. Never could relate to my family’s stories or my friend's jokes and trips to grandpa's house (I didn't meet my grandparents until I was 20). Almost always, I stood out in a group.
When I went to Sri Lanka for the first time, I had an unexpected experience. For the first time in my life, I could basically go anywhere I wanted and not stand out. I loved it. Without realizing it, I had longed for this type of obscurity my whole life.
This November, Amreitha will have this same experience. She’s nervous. Since her adoption, she has not been to India. It has been 22 years.
P.S.
This month, she holding a party to raise money for this trip. If you would like to contribute, please let me know by leaving a comment or filling out the contact form under the “contact” button above (next to “store”).
Prepare for Part 2 of "Ami Miller was not Born in America."
Early Morning.
Just a quick update:
Last night, I had my first night shift at the hotel. Literally, I was the only employee in the building.
After I got off my shift at 11pm, I went to bed and dreamt about one customer disobeying my commands, and I beat them into submission.
Then, I woke up at 530am this morning for my 7am shift. This is crazy.
I love it. I'm learning a lot about discipline and sacrifice.
I had to reject a great opportunity to go to a birthday party last night because of this job.
Never really rejected opportunities before.
Never really had an inflexible job before.
That's why I'm learning so much.
Gotta go to work.
-Pradeepan
Busking on the Streets
Busking: To play music or perform entertainment in a public place, usually while soliciting money.
Last night, Jesse and I performed on the corner of Kiowa and Tejon from 8pm-3am. A lot happened.
We made $140 money cash.
Basically, we set up our guitars, two djembes and a lounge including the following items: Books (Redeeming Love, Manliness, Money Sex and power), two chairs, table, Ukranian flag, poncho, teddy bear, and chips).
I am thoroughly pleased with how many stories we acquired (as well as money cash).
Because there are so many stories to share, I am going to bullet point them. If you would like the more in depth and humorous story, let me know and I’ll write about it.
The general feel of the night did not revolve around music, though that is how traditional buskers busks. For the most part, we heckled people. We made fun of those who did not give and celebrated those who did. In all my days of life I have never seen anyone on the streets as aggressive as we were. Only by the grace of God did we not get beat up.
This is the list of our Busking adventures:
1. Stole a 17 year old girls busking corner (Cammy’s)
2. Got kissed by a girl with a sore on her lips (we didn’t know she was coming, but we turned our faces just in time)
3. Taught a group of people how to swing dance (Jesse used to be a swing dance teacher)
4. Swing danced with pretty girls dressed up for a formal
5. The drummer from the Desperation band joined us on djembe
6. Prophesied over two girls on two separate occasions (One girl began to tear)
7. Got a bride to dance
8. Almost got beat up (We accused a guy of dating his cousin)
9. Drunk guy threw a vodka bottle at us and then instantly disappeared
10. Random musicians awkwardly joined us
11. We sang 90’s hip songs with acoustic guitars
12. I rap battled Mr. J. Medeiros (This guy is on the same record label as the roots. I won because he refused to compete)
13. Drunk Scottish guy stole a dollar from us, but returned it
14. We accused men of not being providers because they wouldn’t give us a dollar (Some went back to their car to get us money!)
15. We received a tract (This made us angry because it looked like money)
16. Jesse and I pretended like were each other’s competition and said things like “Don’t give money to that guy—he was born with a trust fund"
17. As people drew near to us, we would stop playing and ask for a dollar
MY FAVORITE STORY
18. I asked if anybody would freestyle battle me, and this tall black guy came up and said, “I can’t rap, but I’ll give you a beat.” He began to throw down a horrible beat, but I started rapping to it. At one point, I realized he was really into what I was putting out there. So, I carpe diemed it (seized the moment). I started rapping choruses and having this guy repeat me. He would, and loved it. I’d say things like “Take your wallet out. Take your Wallet out,” and this guy obeyed everything I rapped. So I said “Put all your money in. Put all your money in.” This guy started thinking about what he was doing because he knew he didn’t want to give up all that money, but then I rapped, “Don’t even think about it. Put your money in. Don’t even think about it. Put your money in” and he did! He dropped a fat wad of cash. Then, I rapped, “It’s time to leave now. It’s time to leave now.” This guy actually obeyed everything I said and gave me all his money. Crazy. I bet this morning he wondered where all his money went. PTL!
Overall, it was a great night and I’m glad I did it. We made a lot of money and memories. If you’re interested in joining me, let me know. At all times, anything could happen. Sometimes only one person is watching, but then a group twenty surrounds you. It’s truly neat.
Back to the hotel tomorrow for 7am work!
Peace.
Street Adventures
In a little while, I am about to get my August Rush on. This cool kid Jesse Mutzebaugh and I are grabbing guitars and taking ‘em to the streets of downtown Colorado Springs. If you want to check us out, come to the Tejon and Pikes Peak area.
Last night we had a few unplanned adventures spurring on this performance urge.
ADVENTURE ONE.
Jesse and I put on nice suits and headed to an Art Show we heard about (Sarah Addy mentioned there would be free food). Obviously and purposely over dressed, we perused through the abstract pieces and political paintings. A set of images highlighting the artist Frita caught our attention and I asked to see if the artist was present. She was, and we got introduced to her. As she shared her heart and influences, she seemed thrilled that people wanted to understand the deeper tones of her art (and heart). Eventually, she brought us into a secret room (back stage) with more of her art. It was painful to look into her soul while she described the influences behind her piece, “Coping Mechanism,” and others, but I’m grateful I got to.
ADVENTURE TWO.
“Are you Mormons?” many inebriated night lifers asked us. Our suits were not black. Our ties were not black, yet people thought we were dressed like Mormons. Why have Mormons taken all the credit for suits?
SIDE NOTE: I love wearing suits, and it saddens me that the culture of some churches have developed so that one may feel uncomfortable dressing up for a service. I’m cool with shorts and holed up jeans, but I’m also cool with suits. Just because someone is wearing a suit does not mean they are influenced by a religious spirit.
ADVENTURE THREE (out of order).
A group of girls caught our attention. Sixteen year old girls. Fortunately , we caught the group of twelve’s attention as well (apparently, they weren’t used to seeing men wear suits). These 12, sixteen year old girls caught our attention because they were dressed oddly. Gas masks, old man wigs, little Bo peep dresses, strange glasses, and glittery garments caused this giggling group to stand out.
I’ve always been certain that this is what girls do when guys aren’t around, but this was the first time I actually saw it.
They wanted to take pictures with us. We wanted to take pictures with them, but didn’t want to seem like perverts. Fortunately, they asked first.
Girls. Go figure.
When they email me the pictures I’ll put them up.
ADVENTURE FOUR
Before we met those girls, Jessed and I were heading back to our car. Suddenly, a great music filled the air—great in a creepy way. Anybody that knows me well knows that I had to find the source of the music. Jesse wasn’t aware of anything because he was talking on a phone with a friend that a 17 girl we met reunited him with (that’s the next adventure).
He looked up to find that I was leading him into an exceptionally creepy alley. Creepy music, no lighting and people scattered around made us feel a little insecure, even though we were wearing nice suits (maybe because we were wearing nice suits). Still, we followed the music into the alley. In the alley was another deeper alley. The music got louder and we found the source. A bunch of dreadlocked, pot smoking young adults hung around outside a building (the source of the sound). “Come in. We welcome you” the hippies said to keep us from leaving. It worked. We entered the building and saw intriguing displays. Art hung everywhere, a man blew his brass instrument to drums, bass and synths, and dreadlocked youths made out as we entered the building. I wish I hadn’t worn my suit. We hung out for awhile, but left as people asked us if were Mormon because we didn’t want to take a hit.
ADVENTURE FIVE
“She’s got to be thirteen” we said to each other. Observing this small framed, blonde, trendy looking girl play her guitar and sing on the corner only lasted ten minutes before we asked her how old she was. Seventeen. “I’ve been homeless for about 8 months now” she said to us in response to us asking about her life. We found out that she had moved quite a bit because her dad regularly lost his job, and always wanted a new one in a different location. Our hearts broke as we found that he has never had an education or a stable life. Jesse and I taught her a few guitar tricks and Sarah Addy (who was with us for this adventure) encouraged her during the time we spent with her. This girl, Cammy (like from Street Fighter II Turbo) encouraged us to grab our guitars and play on the streets.
So, that’s what we’re doing tonight.