Day 13: Longing for Home {31 Days of Re-entry}

This is the painting I chose to hang in my bedroom when my parents moved houses during my freshman year of college. That was 18 years ago and since then I have moved my possessions 11 times, living in 3 different countries, 2 different states and 6 different cities. Each time I would return to my parent’s house, I would study that painting and imagine I was the girl in the pink dress, wondering how to get home.

In her, I found a kindred spirit and someone who looked as homeless as I felt.

She always seemed to be longing for something more, but never finding the strength to get there. Many Jim and Elisabeth quotes get tossed around, but one of their quotes from a letter written before they were married made an impression on me: “Let not our longing slay the appetite of our living.”

When I was in college, I longed to know which roads I would take–which job I would end up doing and in which city. Who I would befriend and if/when I would get married.

After college in the thick of teaching public school in Chicago, I wondered if life would always be like this. Would I ever meet someone? Have a family? Go overseas like I had always wanted?

When I was finally in China, I longed for a partner and someone to be my “constant” in a world that was ever changing. I yearned for that man and hoped for a family of my own. I wanted to make a difference in a country that makes up one fifth of the world’s population. And yet I still longed for America and the familiar.

And after returning from China, getting married and having children, I now long for a meaningful life. I hope our family can live counter-culturally and stand out from the seemingly homogenous culture that is now our “home.”

Longing.

Let not our longing slay the appetite of our living.

On a run one dreary spring day in Chicago before leaving for China, I ran under the elevated train (El) tracks that were stained, rusted and tagged with graffiti. There was a railing that ran parallel underneath and in it someone had planted a tiny garden that pierced the day with its cheerfulness. Even though you are miserable because of the cloudy days, the crowded streets and the lonely commutes home, you can grow here, God seemed to say.

Many years later, on another run, this time in China, I passed a dried up field in the outskirts of the city which had become a dumping ground for trash and refuse. I had a holy moment when I noticed a single yellow flower bursting through the sad field, thriving in spite of its environment. You can grow anywhere, God seemed to be saying to me.

Let not our longing slay the appetite of our living.

I believe humans will always long for more. We long to know the future and to make a difference. We long for love, community, belonging, peace, healthy challenges, beauty and meaning. This is not just true to the Christian experience, it is true to the human experience.

But the Christian takes the longing one step further by naming our hope and defining our longing for an eternal home.

Yes, there is a place for contentment, being thankful and having a grateful heart, but some degree of longing is appropriate and reminds us that we are out of place here. We are a garden in a concrete jungle and a flower in the wilderness. Our longing is good, but it is temporary. And in the meantime, we are to beautify our surroundings–wherever God places us.

(For practical ways I’m trying to do this, check out Readjusting: Same Tools, New Work Space)

~~~~~~

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This post is day 13 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

Day 1: Introduction
Day 2: Grieving
Day 3: No One Is Special
Day 4: Wasted Gifts
Day 5: I Never Expected…
Day 6: Identity: Through the Looking Glass
Day 7: Did I mishear God?
Day 8: When You Feel Like Shutting Down
Day 9: Caring for your Dorothy
Day 10: You’re Not the Only One Who’s Changed
Day 11: 12 Race Day Lessons for Serving Overseas
Day 12: Confessions of an Experience Junkie
Day 13: Longing for Home
Day 14: Readjusting: Same Tools, Different Work Space
Day 15: Book Review: The Art of Coming Home
Day 16: The Story of My “Call”
Day 17: Is Missions a “Higher Calling”?
Day 18: And Then I Fell in Love
Day 19: Is God Calling You Overseas?
Day 20: Life Is Not Seasonal
Day 21: What I Took and What I Left Behind
Day 22: Groundless, Weightless, Homeless
Day 23: When the Nations Come to You
Day 24: The Call to Displacement
Day 25: Scripture Anchors for Re-Entry
Day 26: In the Place of Your Exile
Day 27: Resources for Re-entry
Day 28: A Time for Everything: A Prayer of Leaving
Day 29: Journal: 8 Months After Re-Entry
Day 30: 12 Survival Tips for Re-Entry
Day 31: A Blessing
(Day 32: Writing is Narcissistic (And Four Other Reasons Not to Write)–a reflection on this Write 31 Days experience)

Linking up with #WholeMama

Painting: “Christina’s World,” by Andrew Wyeth (American), 1948.

October 13, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 12: Confessions of an Experience Junkie {31 Days of Re-Entry}

I am an experience junkie. There, I said it. I’m addicted to change, hilarity and the absurd, being stretched and emerging with ridiculous tales. I don’t know how I survived college intact since I took advantage of as many opportunities as would possibly fit into my schedule.

My sophomore year, I debated whether or not I should do a six month internship in a developing country. When I asked a trusted professor in his 50’s, he told me, “I think you should do it. If I died tomorrow, you wouldn’t have to mourn me at all for the amount of experiences I’ve already had in my lifetime.”

So I lived with a Ugandan family in a village with no indoor plumbing for six months, commuting into Kampala each day to volunteer at a Compassion International child project (don’t be too impressed–I mostly did filing and editing!).

But I thought of my professor’s words…

When I saw a woman balancing 20 pounds of water on her head and a baby on her back who would most likely never travel more than a few miles from her home in her lifetime.

When I saw dying women in the slums covered in flies and dirty children running all around them.

When I realized the girls my age that I befriended had to scrounge for food to feed me when I spent the night at their house.

And later in China, when my students’ dreams were to “go to America,” and I knew they would most likely only be able to take a job teaching back in their poor village and marry a man chosen by their parents.

In Ningxia, China, with my student, the first in her village to go to college

And I wondered: Would the sum total of their life experiences equal:

a less fulfilling life?

a less abundant life?

a less valuable life?

a less meaningful life?

Using my professor’s words, would the reverse be true of their “limited” existence–that we’d have to mourn their lives more because they hadn’t had the chance to go to summer camp as a kid, travel to 10 different countries or earn a Masters degree?

With every experience I am given, I am given more responsibility. I am held more responsible to tell other’s stories, educate those back in my passport country, to be the one voice in the crowd and in the church that can honestly say, “But it isn’t done that way everywhere.”

And I can honestly say that while these experiences are addicting, this kind of exposure to the world and the level of responsibility that it brings can be almost immobilizing.

I feel guilty that I can spend thousands of dollars travelling when it costs me $300 to educate a girl in Uganda for the entire year.

I am burdened when I think of visiting children in an orphanage in Tajikistan who were paralyzed simply because they were never held, sitting hours on plastic toilets in the courtyard.

I am sickened by the 12 year old Thai girls I saw in Chiang Mai in the arms of their 65 year old white tourist “patrons.”

And I ache for the countless women in China that were forced to have abortions because they would have exceeded the number of children allowed by the government.

Yes, I am an experience addict, but the more that I see of the world, the more I find that the experience math just doesn’t compute. Every life is a valuable life, regardless of the amount of experiences. That soot-stained old man selling sweet potatoes on the side of the road in China every day from 7 am to 10 pm is JUST as valuable as me.

God has gifted me with these opportunities not because I am more loved or valuable, but because He expects me to do something with what I experience.

~~~~~~

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This post is day 12 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

October 12, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 11: 12 Race Day Lessons for Serving Overseas {31 Days of Re-Entry}

As mentioned before, one positive effect of re-entry is the perspective you gain on your time spent abroad.

I haven’t been in the blogging world very long, but I have noticed that bloggers seem to like lists, so in solidarity, here’s my contribution to the numerous “list posts.”

(This is not me running.)

I ran my first post-baby half marathon on Sunday and all I could do was keep thinking how similar it was to serving overseas, so here it is:

12 Race-day Lessons for Serving Overseas:

1. Run YOUR race, at YOUR pace.
My race on Sunday wasn’t just for people doing a half marathon, but also included those doing a 10K and a full marathon. Before I realized this, it was easy to compare myself to those around me thinking, They’re running too fast too soon–they’re going to burn out. Or They are sooo slow. Wow. Hope they finish in time. When I approached the six mile mark (of 13), some people around me started sprinting. It wasn’t until then that I realized their race was half as long as mine, so they had a completely different pace. Short-termers and long-termers have entirely different “paces,” so don’t compare your race to theirs!

2. Train beforehand.
Most people wouldn’t just sign up to run 13 miles if they haven’t been running at all, but I know plenty of people who have gone overseas without training. If your organization doesn’t require cross-cultural training, I would definitely recommend finding a church that offers Perspectives or even signing up for a course or two at a nearby Christian College. Many of them offer short week-long courses during Christmas or summer break.

3. Don’t run through the pain.
Cross-cultural workers think that they have to have everything together. Some of this is the fault of the church, who lifts us up as Super Christians and expects us to be perfectly spiritual.  But, just like running, when you run through the pain, you risk further injury–to yourself and to others. It is okay to step out of the race for a while when you need help.

4. Use props, because sometimes it is just boring.
When I run long races, I like to listen to sermons or music. When you are overseas, sometimes you just need to pamper yourself on days when life is difficult.  Listen to music. Watch movies. Read books.  Get a massage. Chat with a friend for two hours. It’s okay if you don’t live exactly like the people in the culture at all times!

5. Notice the course.
The course I ran this weekend was around a reservoir in Colorado. It was a grey and misty day, but I enjoyed the farms, the mountains in the distance and even watching the people around me.  Living abroad, it’s actually pretty impossible NOT to notice when you are in a setting so different from your own, but after five years overseas, I realized I was forgetting to appreciate the world around me. It got too easy to have tunnel vision or even look at the ground on an entire trip to the grocery store because I was just so sick of being stared at (those were the days when I needed to hide out in my apartment for a few days to get recharged).  If this is you, slow down and take notice again.

6. It’s okay to walk sometimes.
Sometimes you don’t need to quit the race entirely, but you’ll be better able to run if you just slow down for a little while. I certainly did this on Sunday and after walking or stopping to stretch, I felt so much more able to keep running. Make space in your schedule for “being.” Most other cultures are actually better at doing this than western ones, so you can learn from your host culture. Take naps when they do. In China, it was an expectation that you would nap after lunch and people would feel so sorry for you if I told them you hadn’t napped. Rest. You will be more productive if you do.

7. Take the free Gatorade.
This race had aide stations every couple miles that offered water and Gatorade for weary runners. If you are living overseas, you may not have many people offering to carry your burdens, but when you do, be sure you take advantage!

8. Use someone to keep pace.
I picked this woman that was actually older than me once I realized she was going at a much steadier pace than I was. When you serve overseas, it is so helpful to have a mentor. Put aside your fear and ask questions of those who have been there longer than you.

9. It’s easier if you have at least one cheerleader on the sidelines.
I ran my first half marathon in Beijing, China, a place where people were so unfamiliar with running for fun that they asked me after the race if I won it. There were spectators, but not many cheerleaders (mainly people scowling at the stupid running people who were stopping up traffic). But being a whitey in a sea of Asians, I stood out enough to be spotted by at least three different people from my organization on the sidelines who cheered me on. Likewise, when you are living overseas, find your “person,” who will check on you relentlessly and pray for you fervently.   (Check out a recent article on A Life Overseas by Craig Thompson, “That One Safe Friend.”)

10. Sometimes you feel alone even when you are running in a crowd.
In a race, overseas, and just in life, we are really running our races alone. Sometimes you can gather adrenaline from the crowd, but at the end of the day, you cross the finish line alone. (Of course, if you know the Lord, you know that you are never truly alone!)

11. If you can, run with a friend.
This was the first race I actually had a friend train with me for and it made it go so much more quickly! In China, I had a “team” of two–including me–but this teammate was the hugest blessing in my life. We were forced to rely on one another. Seek out a friend in country–even if you can just keep in touch via Internet or text messages–who will remind you to keep running on the days you want to bow out.

12. It’s not about winning the race, it’s about finishing.
I will never place in a race. In the five half marathons I have run so far, my goal has always been just to finish (and maybe shave a minute or two off my previous time). It is easy to get competitive when you are living overseas–especially when it comes to language. Remember that just because you pass one person, doesn’t mean that you win the race. Be faithful, my friend. Unlike a half marathon, this race is actually not about you–and you have more than just Gatorade and energy bars fueling you–you have the Holy Spirit! And He wants you to finish strong. (And the last will be first, after all.)

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ²fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

Hebrews 12:1-3 (NIV)

~~~~~~

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This post is day 11 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

Day 1: Introduction
Day 2: Grieving
Day 3: No One Is Special
Day 4: Wasted Gifts
Day 5: I Never Expected…
Day 6: Identity: Through the Looking Glass
Day 7: Did I mishear God?
Day 8: When You Feel Like Shutting Down
Day 9: Caring for your Dorothy
Day 10: You’re Not the Only One Who’s Changed
Day 11: 12 Race Day Lessons for Serving Overseas
Day 12: Confessions of an Experience Junkie
Day 13: Longing for Home
Day 14: Readjusting: Same Tools, Different Work Space
Day 15: Book Review: The Art of Coming Home
Day 16: The Story of My “Call”
Day 17: Is Missions a “Higher Calling”?
Day 18: And Then I Fell in Love
Day 19: Is God Calling You Overseas?
Day 20: Life Is Not Seasonal
Day 21: What I Took and What I Left Behind
Day 22: Groundless, Weightless, Homeless
Day 23: When the Nations Come to You
Day 24: The Call to Displacement
Day 25: Scripture Anchors for Re-Entry
Day 26: In the Place of Your Exile
Day 27: Resources for Re-entry
Day 28: A Time for Everything: A Prayer of Leaving
Day 29: Journal: 8 Months After Re-Entry
Day 30: 12 Survival Tips for Re-Entry
Day 31: A Blessing
(Day 32: Writing is Narcissistic (And Four Other Reasons Not to Write)–a reflection on this Write 31 Days experience)

Linking up with Blessed but Stressed and Velvet Ashes

Photo: By Peter van der Sluijs (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

October 10, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 10: You’re Not the Only One Who’s Changed {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Babies born, friends wed, new buildings constructed, beloved shops closed and crazy technological advances were changes back home that I had only vaguely been aware of while I was living in China.

I knew I had changed when I was overseas, I just hadn’t made allowances for the fact that everyone back home had, too.

Taiye Selasi, in her TED Talk, “Don’t ask where I’m from, ask where I’m a local,” said, “We can never go back to a place and find it exactly where we left it. Something, somewhere will always have changed, most of all, ourselves. People.”

Most of my conflicts that first year back home were the result of me assuming my friends and family had remained frozen in time, waiting for me to return. Naturally.

I remember having a heated conversation with my mom in the fury of wedding planning and she pointed out that my family had changed–I just hadn’t noticed. And not just in the “we like a different kind of cereal than we used to” kind of changing. They had loved hard, overcome struggles, dealt with grief, developed skills and made new discoveries just like I had. Our life lenses were slightly different, but the raw material of Life was still the same.

Six weeks after coming back from China, I began a new job teaching eighth grade in the school I had worked at before moving to China five years earlier. Keep in mind that when I moved to China in 2005, flip phones were all the rage. I got my snazzy silver pocket-sized phone in China and sent all kinds of…text messages. So when I re-entered the states in 2010 to the age of Smartphones, Ipads, and parent portals, I had issues. (Teaching in northwest China, I had been excited if there was a whiteboard in the classroom). Assuming I had a Smartphone like them, parents had new expectations that the teacher respond to emails not just within a day’s time, but within an hour’s time. Grades that used to be private for me with my own system of 5/5 homework points made parents crazy because their kid’s 3/5 showed up as a D on the parent portal. When it came to technology, I had been in a coma for five years.

After living at sea level most of my life, we recently moved to Colorado at about 6,000 ft. altitude. Even athletes in terrific shape arrive early for a race here to allow themselves time to acclimate to the environment. If you have recently returned to your passport culture after living abroad, know that your air will be thinner, breathing more difficult, hills will take longer to climb and, like a dream, the scenery on your hike will be the same, but slightly different than when you left. No matter how strong you are, your body will scream for you to slow down, adapt to your surroundings and re-learn how to breathe the air up here. So listen to it.

And get to know your fellow journeymen again. They have climbed peaks, carried heavy loads, fallen on rocks, meditated and heard from God in ways that will benefit you, even though they have never left their home forest. Walk with them, learn from them and trust them. You are on the same road again.

If you are preparing to return home, maybe take a few moments to jot some notes in your journal. You can use the following questions as a springboard:
1. How have you changed?

2. What major life events have happened to the people you love back home? How do you think they are feeling right now?

3. How have society, pop culture, technology and current events changed while you have been gone? Just as you may have enlisted a cultural mentor from the culture where you have been living, is there someone in your passport culture that could be your cultural mentor?

4. Pray for understanding and a renewed love for your passport culture. Pray for your close family and friends by name.
Have you been on either end of this equation–either the traveler or the family or friend waiting to welcome someone back home? What was your experience?

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This post is day 10 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

October 8, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 8: When You Feel like Shutting Down {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Does your cell phone have a “power saving mode”? One of the features of the phone I use is that it has an “ultra power saving mode,” where you can turn the screen to black and white and only basic calls and texting are functional. When I think about the first few months after returning to America from China, the best way to describe how I felt is to say that I was in “ultra power saving mode.” I did what I could to stay on, but allowed the rest of myself to shut down.

What caused this?

1. I Couldn’t Relate
Life had gone on without me and I just couldn’t catch up. I found myself struggling with a sense of superiority as I listened to friends talk about remodeling their kitchens or “pinning” ideas for their kids’ birthday parties (what was “pinning”?). Instead of entering in, I stood to the side, judging.

2. I Missed Feeling Like I Had Purpose
Most people who serve God overseas are placed in some kind of team. I was on several different teams during my time in China and had gotten used to meeting with the same group several times a week for meals, meetings and prayer. Unlike your usual small group in America, we all had the same job and the same purpose in being there. According to dictionary.com, the word mission means “any important task or duty that is assigned, allotted or self-imposed.” Who wants to go from doing an “important” task to doing a “menial” one?

3. I Didn’t Want Anything to Remind me of China
A couple years ago, my husband and I began to recognize a pattern. Whenever I would read newsletters from my friends who were still serving in China, I would be depressed for a few days after. If a missionary spoke in church, I would find myself in a funk. If someone asked me how I was using my Chinese or if I was keeping in touch with Chinese friends…back in the pit. When I returned from China, the only way I found to cope was to try and shut myself off from anything reminding me of China, because it only seemed to trigger my sense of loss.

November 17, 2010 (4 months after returning)
“Swimming underwater, I feel the pressure of the water all around me. My arms push against the force of it. I am muted, unable to speak and my focus on pushing and physically propelling my body forward inhibits me from thinking, praying or interacting with anyone else. Everyone else is playing on the shore and I am out in the deep.”

I was depressed.

People often ask how long reverse culture shock lasts. The answer: longer than you think it should.

I do feel my experience was compounded by a succession of major life changes immediately following my return–marriage, changing jobs twice, two children and moving cross country all within five years, so it may be a quicker transition for others.

But re-entry can still flatten you when you least expect it.

If you are experiencing any of what I described above, know that you are not alone. God will carry you, my friend, even when you feel like all you want to do is shut down. Slowly, He will revive you and bring you back to life. Trust me.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn,

for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,

for they will inherit the earth.”

Matthew 5: 3-5

If you have gone through re-entry, could you relate to any of these struggles? How long did it take you to feel like you were back at “100% power”?

Linking up with Velvet Ashes

This post is day 8 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

Day 1: Introduction
Day 2: Grieving
Day 3: No One Is Special
Day 4: Wasted Gifts
Day 5: I Never Expected…
Day 6: Identity: Through the Looking Glass
Day 7: Did I mishear God?
Day 8: When You Feel Like Shutting Down
Day 9: Caring for your Dorothy
Day 10: You’re Not the Only One Who’s Changed
Day 11: 12 Race Day Lessons for Serving Overseas
Day 12: Confessions of an Experience Junkie
Day 13: Longing for Home
Day 14: Readjusting: Same Tools, Different Work Space
Day 15: Book Review: The Art of Coming Home
Day 16: The Story of My “Call”
Day 17: Is Missions a “Higher Calling”?
Day 18: And Then I Fell in Love
Day 19: Is God Calling You Overseas?
Day 20: Life Is Not Seasonal
Day 21: What I Took and What I Left Behind
Day 22: Groundless, Weightless, Homeless
Day 23: When the Nations Come to You
Day 24: The Call to Displacement
Day 25: Scripture Anchors for Re-Entry
Day 26: In the Place of Your Exile
Day 27: Resources for Re-entry
Day 28: A Time for Everything: A Prayer of Leaving
Day 29: Journal: 8 Months After Re-Entry
Day 30: 12 Survival Tips for Re-Entry
Day 31: A Blessing
(Day 32: Writing is Narcissistic (And Four Other Reasons Not to Write)–a reflection on this Write 31 Days experience)

October 7, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 7: Did I Mishear God? {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Yesterday night I read the following story to my son before bed:

“Once upon a mountaintop, three little trees stood and dreamed of what they wanted to become when they grew up.

The first little tree looked up at the stars twinkling like diamonds above him. ‘I want to hold treasure,’ he said. ‘I want to be covered with gold and filled with precious stones. I will be the most beautiful treasure chest in the world!’

The second little tree looked out at the small stream trickling by on its way to the ocean. ‘I want to be a strong sailing ship, ‘ he said. ‘I want to travel mighty waters and carry powerful kings. I will be the strongest ship in the world!’

The third little tree looked down into the valley below where busy men and busy women worked in a busy town. ‘I don’t want to leave this mountaintop at all,’ she said. ‘I want to grow so tall that when people stop to look at me they will raise their eyes to heaven and think of God. I will be the tallest tree in the world!’

The trees grew and one day three woodcutters came and cut the trees for their own purposes. [My 3-year-old son was very distraught at this point].

The first tree was fashioned into a feed box for animals, the second into a simple fishing boat, and the third into strong beams which were left in the lumberyard. ‘What happened?’ the once-tall tree wondered. ‘All I ever wanted to do was stay on the mountaintop and point to God…'”

Some of the most confusing times of my life have come when I have been convinced that I was doing God’s will, only to have my way blocked. One time I thought the Lord had told me that I would marry a certain person (I didn’t) and the other was when I thought the Lord had told me to go into missions. If you have read any of my previous posts, but especially the one about wasted gifts, you know my angst in leaving China. Since I was 16 years old, I was convinced I would serve the Lord overseas, so when He made it very clear that He wanted me to leave the field, return to America and get married, I couldn’t understand how that could be His will.

Had I misheard God?

I sometimes wonder if the Apostle Paul felt confused when the Holy Spirit prevented him from going to certain cities to tell them about Jesus (Acts 16). Why wouldn’t God want that? And why would God allow him to be imprisoned, when the word missionary itself means “a person SENT”? What good could he do from inside a prison? (wink, wink)

[This is an aside: This will sound melodramatic, but thinking about Paul in prison actually helped me to prepare for motherhood. Stay with me here. When I entered motherhood, I felt what my husband and I call The Narrowing happen even more. Used to being fiercely independent and willing to travel anywhere, I knew that having a child would restrict that in many ways. To be dramatic, I was being put in Parent Prison. How was this better than seeing “the nations” come to Christ? But it was helpful to think of all the ways Paul ministered FROM prison. Think of all the “prison epistles” we wouldn’t have if Paul had never spent that time in a jail cell…]

In addition to Paul, I can also relate to David and Moses’ passion to serve God in a specific way that didn’t go as planned. David’s dream was to be the one to build a temple for the Lord, but God chose his son, Solomon, to do it instead (2 Sam. 7). And when Moses finally tried to right the injustices against the Jews (by fighting and killing a man), the timing was all wrong (Exodus 2). Instead, he fled to Midian for 40 years before he was truly called via burning bush to go back to Egypt and convince Pharaoh to let his people go.

Lately, I have actually been thinking of my time back in the states as “My Midian.” I came here to get married, have children and now “tend the flock.” Moses actually seemed to forget all about the plight of his people, just as many days go by for me now without a thought of China. But God was the one who “heard the groaning; and God remembered his covenant…God saw…and God took notice of them” (Ex. 2:24). This doesn’t remove our responsibility, but it certainly assuages my guilt when I remember that God is the one who sees and delivers–not me. Moses had moved on and was just living his life. And THEN he was called in a way that was unmistakable.

Conclusion to The Three Trees:

“Many many days and nights passed. The three trees nearly forgot their dreams.

But one night golden starlight poured over the first tree as a young woman placed her newborn baby in the feed box…and suddenly the first tree knew he was holding the greatest treasure in the world.

One evening a tired traveler and his friends crowded into the old fishing boat. The traveler fell asleep…Soon a thundering and thrashing storm arose…He knew he did not have the strength to carry so many passengers safely through the wind and rain. The tired man awakened. He stood up, stretched out his hand and said, ‘Peace.’ The storm stopped as quickly as it had begun. And suddenly the second tree knew he was carrying the King of heaven and earth.

One Friday morning, the third tree was startled when her beams were yanked from the forgotten woodpile. She flinched as she was carried through any angry, jeering crowd. She shuddered when soldiers nailed a mans’ hands to her…

But on Sunday morning, when the sun rose and the earth trembled with joy beneath her, the third tree knew that God’s love had changed everything.

It had made the first tree beautiful.

It had made the second tree strong.

And every time people thought of the third tree, they would think of God.

That was better than being the tallest tree in the world.”

The Tale of Three Trees: A Traditional Folktale. Retold by Angela Elwell Hunt. Colorado Springs, CO: Lion Publishing, 1989.

We never really know how God plans to use us, do we? Our gifts, dreams and plans for God are never wasted, but sometimes they may be “up-cycled” into something even more beautiful, strong and glorifying to God than we could have ever asked or imagined.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.”

(Is. 55:8-9, NIV)

Have you ever felt you “misheard God”? Which of your dreams for God have gone unrealized?

This post is day 7 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts:

Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee

October 6, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 6: Identity: Through the Looking Glass {31 Days of Re-Entry}

“Who are YOU?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I-I hardly know, sir, just at present-at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I can’t explain MYSELF, I’m afraid, sir,” said Alice, “because I’m not myself, you see.”

“I don’t see,” said the Caterpillar.

(Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5)

Last week, my husband and I got to see the stage production of Looking Glass Alice and I couldn’t help thinking how much her experience compared to the way I felt in returning to America.

I was probably overly confident as I stepped off the plane in Chicago. I had experienced closure of sorts in China, was eagerly anticipating getting engaged and married and felt that I would be able to move forward at the same rate of emotional and spiritual growth that I had the past five years in China. But, like Alice, my reality was severely altered. When you come back from being assimilated into another culture, you have changed in ways that you can’t even imagine, much less explain to another person.

As I packed up my apartment at the end of my time in China, I popped the pictures out of their frames, which were too bulky for a suitcase, thinking how much like the pictures I was–staying the same, but just changing frames. I had no idea that not only was my frame changing, but that I was an entirely different picture than I was when I left five years before.

Two months after returning from China, I wrote:
Sept. 18, 2010
“Had a major meltdown Thursday night. I think the tiredness and emotions of the past few weeks finally just needed a release. It seems like I’m in tears every couple weeks and that has never been my pattern. But I think a lot of it is reverse culture shock. As expected, it’s strange to work in the exact same place I did before where everyone assumes that I, too, am the same.”

In China, I taught no more than 16 hours a week, leaving the rest of my time open to develop relationships with Chinese people. An extrovert, this was a dream come true for me. You mean my JOB is to hang out with people?! So it was no wonder that when I returned to America and immediately entered into a 50 hour a week teaching job (and was planning a wedding), I felt life was like a rope that I could never quite grasp as it was constantly slipping through my fingers, chafing and burning along the way.

A little over two months after I returned to America, I wrote:
Sept. 30, 2010
“The weeks are flying by. I can’t believe it’s already the 4th week of school. Every second has been accounted for, every spare minute claimed for some important task. I miss being.”

Nov. 13, 2010
“This is such a strange time of my life. It’s uncomfortable having my time shoved into a vice and compressed down to minutes. And I’m still missing China…”

Not only had my expectations for amount of time I would have for people and quiet time in a day changed, but many of my simple life routines had altered as well. With fresh vegetable stands outside my apartment complex year-round, no car, a grocery store a mile away and little access to western food, my eating habits in China had changed drastically.

Along with that, all the people where I lived would come home from work and school to have lunch as a family and NAP from 11:30 am to 2:30 pm. I eventually followed suit. It was glorious. Even my laundry routines changed. Five years later, I STILL can’t bear to dry my clothes after having to hang dry them for five years.

My expectations of relationships shifted as well. In America, I had forgotten that with many people, you have to plan several weeks in advance if you want to hang out. In China, I would plan in advance in my head, but invite someone to do something the day before or maybe two days beforehand (otherwise, you’d get stood up!).

As I reflect back on this rocky time of life, I think I should have taken a bit more time to re-adapt to my home culture. If I could do it again, I wouldn’t have taken such a demanding job at such a time of transition. As I mentioned in a previous post, I would have sought out counseling to work through some of this change and asked for more help from friends.

But it’s difficult when you are trapped in the looking glass to know exactly how to get yourself out.

“So you think you’re changed, do you?”

“I’m afraid I am, sir,” said Alice, “I can’t remember things as I used–and I don’t keep the same size for ten minutes together!”

(Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 5)

A few weeks after returning to Chicago, I wrote:
Aug. 26, 2010
“Lord, please help me to move on from the last chapter and live fully in this one and the one after that. Prepare my heart. Give me godly counsel and godly perspective…Help me to recognize that no matter where I am, who I’m with or what I’m doing, that my identity will not change. I am a daughter of the King. I am Christ’s beloved, bathed and cleansed from sin and shame and allowed to dance and worship before my Creator.”

How has living overseas changed you? Have you brought any daily routines back into your passport culture with you?

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This post is day 6 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

Picture: Arthur Rackham [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

October 5, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 5: I Never Expected…{31 Days of Re-Entry}

The following journal entries are of the cyclical (or “spaghetti brain,” as my husband calls it) variety that I warned you of earlier, but I think even that is a testament to the nature of re-entry. Questions of identity, grief, doubt and confusion will circle back around daily at first, then weekly and eventually you will be so in the thick of life back “home,” that they will only occasionally tap at your heart.

My personal struggle came from a place of slowly accepting that my “call to missions” and my call to marriage would have to be a mutually exclusive one.

This first journal entry was written the week after I flew back to the states, and 4 days after I got engaged.

July 22, 2010
“It feels surreal to be here [in Chicago] and yet so natural at the same time. I think I just feel like I’m on vacation, though in some ways I do feel like I’m suspended in air and homeless. God-willing, I’ll be married on January 15, about 6 months from now. This is amazing and wonderful, but also so much harder than I thought.

I never expected to have to give up missions.

I never expected that I would marry someone who wasn’t in ministry.

I never expected to be living in Chicago again.

I love this city–the lake, gardens, quaint neighborhoods, diversity, culture and quirks–but I just don’t feel at home here anymore.

It’s kind of like having an old coat that you loved and wore for years, but eventually decided to give to Goodwill. You finally allowed yourself to part with it and invest in a new coat, but one day the coat is returned to you and the giver expects you to wear it with the same level of affection you had when it was new. It is difficult to love a place when your heart has already moved on to somewhere else.

Jesus, you are my Rock. People, places and life circumstances may change, but You never do. You are the same here that you were in China.

Lord God, thank you for your abundant blessings. Please forgive me for being like the Israelites, who begged to be delivered out of Egypt, only to spend the next 40 years complaining about the manna and the wandering. Forgive me Lord, for I’ve been begging for a life partner for half my life and now all I can do is see what I’m giving up. Please transform my attitude.

Lord Jesus,
You are my life.
You give my life meaning and purpose.
You are my joy, hope and peace.
You provide for all my needs.
You never leave, fail or forsake me.
You cleanse me and forgive my sins.
You fill all my empty places and give me a firm place to stand.

Not Adam.
Not China.
Not being a teacher or missionary or student.

You are my identity and that will never change.”

Feb. 3, 2011 (I was married Jan. 15, 2011)
“My life is so different than what I thought it would be, but it feels so right and good. I love being married and have no doubt that this is your will. I’m just not sure how the past 15 years relate to now…

Please help me to keep moving forward, keep listening, keep growing.”

Acknowledgement of expectations, acceptance of God’s will, reorienting yourself to the cross and moving forward are all healthy ways to cope with the pain and confusion you may feel in re-entry. But don’t be surprised if you find yourself journaling about the same struggles again, and again, and again…

How has your life been different from the way you expected? Was leaving the field confusing to you because you thought that you had been called there for life? How did you cope with this transition?

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This post is day 5 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

October 4, 2015January 13, 2017

Day 4: Wasted Gifts {31 Days of Re-Entry}

If you read my post yesterday, you know that I struggle with pride, so it will come as no surprise to you that when watching the movie, The Incredibles, I identify with being an undercover super hero. If you haven’t seen the movie, a super hero couple marries and decides to try and live a “normal” suburban life without using their powers, until, of course evil forces threaten and they are coerced into using their powers once again. Currently a stay-at-home-mom in America, I sometimes feel like some of my gifts for language, culture and teaching have gone into hiding. I am Elastigirl incognito.

From childhood, we develop gifts that we often use only for a season, or they are latent in us until we have an opportunity to feed and water them once more. Those who have changed careers, left jobs to stay home with children, immigrants with PhD’s working at McDonald’s in the states, those who were concert pianists, on the varsity team or on the traveling dance team in their childhood can probably relate.

Missionaries develop a unique skill set that is often less useful if they return to their passport country: tribal languages, cultural knowledge, bargaining skills, and the ability to live without running water and electricity aren’t skills that are usually in high demand in the western world. If you return home, are you wasting your gifts? Will you ever use them again?

I returned to the states to marry an amazing man, an actor who had just begun recording audio books full time, but did theater on the side. He studied theater in college and has his MFA in acting. In addition to loving God (and me), His passions in life are books, theater, Frisbee and craft coffee (in changing order depending on the time of day).

Before I met my husband, I got my Masters in Intercultural Studies and spent five years studying Mandarin Chinese, including two years of full time study, fully intending to spend the rest of my life in China. Weeks before we met, I began applying to PhD programs in cultural studies.

But God had different plans for us.

It seemed that each of us, in being called to marriage, were being called to lay our most precious gifts on the altar. Missions and China for me and theater for him.

Upon returning to the states, one of the most painful questions someone could ask me was, “Are you using your Chinese?” It triggered a sense of shame that I was perhaps squandering a gift I had spent hours in honing. Likewise, my husband now knows to brace himself for sadness when he attends his friend’s plays or is asked what show he is currently in.

In the past five years of being back in the states, my husband and I have each had some opportunities to use these latent gifts, which I may go into in another post, but for the most part, we have had to leave these talents buried in the ground.

From the world’s perspective, this is “waste,” but God seems to operate by a different economy and at times, His equations just don’t seem to balance. Living overseas, I was always surprised when the most “qualified” people (fluent in the language, with deep relationships, culturally savvy) were the ones that seemed to leave. How could God want that when they were “doing so much to help the kingdom?”

Similarly, in Scripture, I have always been baffled by the fact that God called Paul, who seems like he would have been the perfect candidate for ministry to the Jews, to preach to the Gentiles. Not logical.

Paul must have felt this loss. It seems to come through in Philippians 3, where he recounts his qualifications as being a Pharisee from the “right” lineage. He knew what he was capable of by the world’s standards. And yet. He counts all these as LOSS for the sake of Christ. He is willing to lose all–his status, education, gifts and abilities–for the sake of knowing Christ.

This is the kind of man God wanted to use to spread His kingdom in the world.

Jesus, take my gifts.

I break this valuable alabaster jar and pour it out for you.

You are worthy of my every sacrifice because you already sacrificed your life for mine.

Nothing done for you or for your glory can ever be considered “waste.”

Thank you, Jesus.

Do you feel that you have latent gifts? What gifts is Christ asking you to lay at His feet until He chooses to use them again?

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This post is day 4 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

October 3, 2015January 23, 2018

Day 3: No One Is Special {31 Days of Re-entry}

This short story is my gift to you. It’s my favorite.

Before I met my husband, he needed to have his wisdom teeth removed. As many of us have done, he thought to himself, This anesthetic isn’t going to work on ME. I’m special. And then he woke up. Soon, he began getting tons of text messages from friends he hadn’t heard from in years. “We think you’re special, Adam!” they said. Or, “Praying for you!” Confused, he checked back in his sent box on his phone to see if perhaps he may have sent something in his drugged state. Sure enough, he had sent a message to EVERYONE in his contacts–old professors, clients, acquaintances…everyone: a picture of himself with puffy, black and blue cheeks and bloody gauze sticking out of his mouth with the caption, “No one is special.”

With the exception of a few places in the world, when you go to live in a non-western culture, you feel special. Living in the middle of nowhere in northwest China with four foreigners in our entire city, I literally caused fender benders.

When I visited spots like the Terracotta Warriors or the Great Wall, people would ask to take their picture with me (seriously! I counted 10 different people once!) Once I was reading in a noodle shop when I looked up to see a group of Hui (Muslim) men decked out in National Geographic-worthy garb, holding their cell phones up to sneak a picture of me!

People would jab their friends to look up at us as we walked down the street (even after living on the same street for three years). We were called foreign “experts.” Ha. I’m still not sure what I was supposed to be an expert at. In large meetings at our university, we would always be given the best food, hotel rooms and seats–simply because we were their guests. I certainly felt special.

It was a bit more tame, but the pedestal effect was present in the U.S. as well. I mean, I must have been special to have multiple invitations to speak in small groups and in front of churches, right? People supported me financially, prayerfully and just socially as they prioritized my yearly visits. Missionaries receive a certain kind of fame within the church that is just hard not to enjoy. In the eyes of the church, you are a Super Christian.

And then you’re not.

You step down and walk among all the normal, “boring” Christians again. You go to Target, get a “secular” job and are no longer sought out by people at church who once wanted to meet the “missionary who lives in China.” As annoying as the attention could be on those days back in the country where you just wanted to be anonymous and buy a tube of toothpaste without everyone commenting on your decision, it somehow sunk into your brain that you should be noticed. You’re special, after all.

So now I believe that one of God’s greatest gifts to me was to bring me back. The painful process has reminded me that I am not special. Am I loved by God? Yes. But special? Jesus Himself, though He was equal with God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but took the nature of a servant (Phil. 2). My motives in serving overseas had slowly shifted as I had begun to selfishly enjoy that I was “special.”

I love this quote from Amy Young about her return to the states after living in China for over 20 years:
“Was I willing to stay in a story I thought was interesting on the surface so that people would think I am interesting even though I was fading in it? Was I the kind of person who cared so much about others opinions I was willing to prostitute myself to being interesting? Was being interesting my altar?”
(From the post “A Great Fear {As Pertaining to the Story of my Life}”, by Amy Young of The Messy Middle, Dec. 6, 2013.)

After being back in the states for 3 months, I copied this down in my journal from My Utmost for His Highest, by Oswald Chambers (Oct. 16):

“No Christian has a special work to do. A Christian is called to be Jesus Christ’s own…and someone who does not dictate to Jesus Christ what he intends to do. Our Lord calls us to no special work–He calls us to Himself.”

Stepping out of the spotlight, we are stripped down to the essence of who we truly are–and that can be terrifying. This is grace. He is grace. And our identity is found through our humble acceptance that we are nothing without Christ, but are complete in Him and Him alone.

Have you ever noticed that you have begun enjoying the feeling of being special just because you live overseas? Do you think missionaries are somehow more special than others? If you have returned, how have you dealt with this realization?

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Resources:
Jonathan Trotter wrote this article (that I wish I had written!) for the website, A Life Overseas, called “The Idolatry of Missions.” Such a poignant and true testament to some of what I have experienced.

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This post is day 3 of the series “Re-entry: Reflections on Reverse Culture Shock,” a challenge I have taken to write for 31 days. Check out my other posts in the series:

Category: Missions

Day 13: Longing for Home {31 Days of Re-entry}

Day 12: Confessions of an Experience Junkie {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 11: 12 Race Day Lessons for Serving Overseas {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 10: You’re Not the Only One Who’s Changed {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 8: When You Feel like Shutting Down {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 7: Did I Mishear God? {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 6: Identity: Through the Looking Glass {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 5: I Never Expected…{31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 4: Wasted Gifts {31 Days of Re-Entry}

Day 3: No One Is Special {31 Days of Re-entry}

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