Giving What I Hope to Receive

As a child, I thought that grace was a sacred word that only belonged in conversations about God reaching down and saving a wretch like me. Like only my Heavenly Father could extend grace, and it applied solely to that moment when He welcomed me into His family.

I still think it's a sacred word, but I've come to understand the fullness of its application. 

Since moving back from South America to South Carolina this past year, I have repeatedly asked for and been given grace during our immediate adjustment period. Sometimes I didn't quite know how to ask for it and just hoped people would understand and extend me grace without having to actually be told how badly I needed it.  Most days, I wished I could wear a t-shirt that said, "WARNING: Missionary in re-entry. Stand back."

The Wal-Mart checkout gal and all those people behind me in line who wonder why I can't operate the debit card reader or figure out where to put my buggy.

The church people who reach out to shake my hand about the time I'm going in for cheek kisses, so we end in some awkward hug that sometimes results in accidentally kissing on the mouth.

Family members who want us all to pile in on Sunday dinners and holidays that last way past the tolerance level of my daughters, who now prefer large groups in small windows of time only.

Friends who hold their breath while I am trying to complete a sentence in English, even though the words won't come. Even better, friends who try to interpret my hand signals and grunts.

I silently or loudly plead for grace in these and so many more daily moments of chaos.

But it took me a bit to realize that as much as I need grace during this time, so do the folks who were here going through normal American life while I was off globetrotting.

They need me to understand that they don't understand.

I'm quick to notice my shortcomings and those of my immediate family, that are a result of culture shock, but I forget that these people around us don't know where we are coming from. They don't know what we've lived through beyond what they've read on our blog or gleaned from the newsletter or maybe, a few of them, seen in person for a few days at a time.

They don't know how different my gut reactions are from theirs now, how many of my thoughts come to me in another language, and what I am very used to doing as everyday activities.

They don't know that I'm a totally different person than when I left in 2008.

When they have expectations of me that I can't meet, when they just don't get it, when they assume things that are way off base, I have to be able to recognize how little they actually know of what I've lived, and then extend them the same grace I expect to receive.

Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full--pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back.      Luke 6:38 NLT

Transitions

transition - movement, passage or change from one position, state,

stage, subject, concept, etc. 

My adult married life can be described in one word ... transition. We have moved so many times I have lost count and, to be honest, I don't really want to know. I know the lingo, the steps, how to pack like a pro and yet the thought of "another move" has me feeling that familiar feeling. dread. Not dreading the position, people or place ... dreading the work involved and the emotions attached with moving or transitioning. Whew ... we're not planning a move in the near future, but many are in the world of missionary families. 

I'm part of a large community missionaries here in Germany. You may be familiar with Black Forest Academy. Well, we are serving right in the same village and every June it's a mass exodus as families and students relocate back to North America or some other part of the globe. As families leave, new families arrive during the summer to replace those who have left. In many ways it's a revolving door and, as missionary community, we should be used to this by now, but tears still flow and emotions range from excitement to fear to incredible loss. Here's just the places where the 2014 BFA graduating class are going ... 

So while reading Facebook the other day I came across a post from a missionary friend that sounded all too familiar.

"How to deal with packing and transition stress when you get a little teary-eyed. Method 1: Kiss your 5 year old and ask him if he excited that he's going to get to see Brennan in a few days. Soak in the excitement he exudes. Method 2: Hold your 11 year old in your lap and let her cry out her tears of sadness, share in her grief and be distracted from yours. It's a bit of an emotional roller coaster over here lately." - M.L.

This same mom posted an incredible counseling tool for transitioning. I so wish I would have known this when my kids were little ... 

"Here's a glimpse into the life of transition for a kid. Elise had to make "worry cards" for her counselor this week. She wrote down things she worries about regarding the move back to the US and then put lengths of string on the cards corresponding to how much she worries about it. She can cut the string as the worries become less." M.L.

Through all the moves I've made there is one thing for sure. Well, maybe a couple of things ... 

God knows the end from the beginning. 

His ways are higher than mine. 

I am thankful that He has taken care of us in each move and 

He has walked with us through the grieving of transition and the joy of new adventures. 

What do you think about this? Have you used anything like this with your children? 

Goodbyes

Yesterday we had to say goodbye.  Again.  This time, friends of ours are leaving the country for good.  Sigh.  It's hard.  And what makes it harder is my kids are taking it hard. This guy was one of our boys' first friends here.

 This part of the missionary life is just hard.  There is no other way to say it.  Someone told me once that we weren't made for goodbyes.  Yep, I would say that's true.

This goodbye has been especially difficult on our oldest.  He's been crying about it for a week now.

We've talked about how it's good to cry, to feel the pain, but also to celebrate the times that we've had with them.  A couple of weeks ago we had a Despidida (going away party) at our house for them.  It was such a fun day, but hard too.  Last night we drove the 45 minutes down the mountain to see them for the last time here in Costa Rica.  These things are important.  They give us time to say goodbye, to remember, to celebrate and to grieve.

And I pray that my boys will not become hardened with all of these goodbyes.  I want them to stay soft, to embrace people, not hold them at a distance because they are afraid they will leave.

How about you?  How do you help your kids through all of the goodbyes this life brings us?

8 kids, at least 10 carryons (probably more), 20 suitcases, 1 stroller and a pile of paperwork

...and if our oldest daughter gets her way, at least one czar-ish black cat.

I don't think that's gonna happen.

Hopefully I won't misplace the husband or the grandparents in all of the craziness.

...or the passports or the residence permits or the plane tickets.

Speaking of plane tickets, did you know we qualify for group rates when we travel (although it isn't always the best deal), we often dress in uniform... or at least something somewhat matching so I can quickly scan - count to ten and identify my group, and it can easily take us several vehicles to get to the airport and over an hour just to get through security, regardless of the locale.

We are really only just shy of being our very own traveling circus. I dislike (a gross understatement) that part.

How can you be excitedly anticipating climbing the steps and finding that letter-numbered, uncomfortably small seat while at the same time dreading it so very much? 

These last few weeks are turning out to be doozies.

Even with all my carefully laid plans and preparations, surprises have happened, are happening... and at this rate, a few more will probably happen. More gets added to my list more quickly than I can check it off. People have expectations of me that will be impossible for me to meet... or they accuse me of being self-absorbed and not genuine. Electric and internet cuts make it next to impossible to keep up with the regularly scheduled stuff. Then there's the tense political climate and current events restricting travel and limiting opportunities... city wide lock down today interfered and rendered impossible a last Sunday of worship with our local brothers and sisters and some goodbyes that just will not be able to be said. (If you are curious about all that sort of stuff, type my country/city of service into a search engine... we've been making international news repeatedly this week.) Those things are just the tip of the iceberg. So, in that sense, I can't wait to get outta here and leave some of those stresses behind.

That doesn't change the fact that goodbyes are hard.

But what do you do when circumstances force you to abort those goodbyes?

I guess that's where it all comes down to trust while riding the roller coaster of emotions that are part and parcel of this transition:

• that God will make beautiful things out of the dust as it settles;
• that God's grace will suffice even where my efforts don't;
• that His mercies will renew morning after morning after morning, just as He promises;
• that what man thinks isn't nearly so important as God's assessment of my heart and actions;
• that God knows His plans even when I'm not sure of my own next step... that He is about the business of doing great and mighty things beyond my imagination;
• that I'm neither as important as I think nor as unimportant as I feel;

and perhaps most importantly,

• with Him, all things are possible.

We'll be traveling... soon... 

... some moments, it isn't soon enough and others it is way too soon!

But I can't wait to see what God has for me and my family as we enter into this next phase of our adventure with Him.

What conflicting emotions do you have about your current situation or place?

What words help reassure and comfort you in those difficult moments?

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I'm taking a break from posting for a few months. Many of you who comment or who are a regular part of this community will be in my prayers over these next few months. I look forward, Lord willing, to join up with you again towards the end of summer! Thanks for journeying with me these past few months.

Other posts in this series of preparing to leave the field:

In which I'm charged by a hippo...
Jumping the Gun? Or Procrastination?
Turning over that TCK leaf
Three months AND three days AND counting...
Going Fishing...
An "infamous" word - at least for me
Conquering nightmares with dreams
The Hounds of Hoarding
pancakes... WITH butter...
8 kids, at least 10 carryons (probably more)

The Hounds of Hoarding

I wonder if this happens to every first term missionary?

Before ever arriving on the field, this really long list from soon to be colleagues arrives informing:

• what is available and affordable in country;
• what is available but expensive;
• what is available in country but such a poor quality it might as well not be;
• what is occasionally available under rare circumstances and when it is, it is super-expensive; and
• what you'd better kiss goodbye for the next few years, OR figure out a way to bring it in your suitcases, OR beg and plead with friends who might be willing to mail you some of whatever it is - but only if feasible,of course, OR just be blessed enough to have friends take the initiative and surprise you with those little bits of home!

Treats received via the post!

Our first time out we brought all sorts of stuff; it literally felt like TONS - sunscreen, shoes, toothpaste, shampoo, deodorant, toothbrushes, ranch seasoning packets, spices, baking soda, pens, pencils, sharpies, swimsuits, feminine supplies, M&Ms, chocolate chips, underwear, razors, sensitive ear earrings, hats for all the kids, sunglasses, adult and children's acetaminophen and ibuprofen, Sudafed, antihistamines, boxes of Kraft Mac & Cheese, hairbrushes and all sorts of hair bands and doodads, bug repellent, blank CDs and cassettes for the studio...

The list could go on and on and on... I honestly cannot recall all that we felt was necessary that many years ago. So many things we were certain were so important if we wanted to make Niger feel just a little more like home.

We got here and I carefully stored away those treasures, figuring I'd need to diligently ration them, parceling them out bit by bit if they were going to last us for the next couple of years. And then, of course, some just had to be tucked away for those very special occasions. If you're an expat or international worker reading this, you know just what I mean: six M&Ms per person on Friday nights after pizza as the highlight desert for the week!

It really was a great plan!

Except I got busy, discovered the many unique treasures easily and only available here, and I mostly forgot what I was hoarding... until one of the kids (or the husband) remembered, uncovered, stumbled upon or in some other clandestine manner found a hidden and forbidden without permission treat - and then began the incessant hounding to consume said delices, immediately.

I'd either cave or find a better hiding place.

And time flew by. All of a sudden we were purchasing tickets and it was time to start cleaning out cupboards, packing and storing things for home assignment, and distributing or selling what I didn't want to pack or store. I discovered that I'd forgotten about a lot more stuff than I'd actually remembered was there.

Anyone else been there, done that? Do you recognize that sheepish, somewhat guilty feeling that steals in where you start looking through all the stuff you've been hoarding for just the right moment, find out you're out of right moments and there's still more left sitting around than you could possibly use in the normal every day of the next 8 weeks or so? Anyone else's family fussed at you for the package of M&Ms trapped in an ice pack in the bottom of the freezer - and the awful waste it will become if you don't manage to somehow rescue them without drowning them in the requisite thaw?

I sure hope I'm not the only one. I don't think I am, since I've heard many local expat friends joke about it on more than one occasion, and I've been to too many moving away slash leaving for home assignment sales littered with stashes of processed food from the States.

To prevent this from happening to me my family this time, about a month ago I emptied our chest freezer, defrosted, cleaned it really well and then we gave it to recently married Nigerien friends of ours as a part of their wedding gift. They hope to get a restaurant business started, so they were delighted! Not only that, but now the frozen, freezer burned cauliflower bag that had disintegrated, dumping its contents all over the freezer floor is already checked off that to-do list.

About two weeks ago, I started culling through my cupboards and pantry. As I make my menu plans these final weeks, I striving to use up at least a couple of items, including the remaining "treasure" stocks. I can't can't wait to teach my 7th grader (who's being home schooled this year) how to make a pumpkin roll with the last can of pumpkin from a package friends sent last fall. It will be a fun treat for us... and for the family after dinner some evening. 

This gives me time to identify those things that I know I'll use as well as those things that I'm pretty sure I won't use to set them aside for the upcoming moving out sales or give them to a friend I know hope will appreciate them.

We are a family of 10 and we often have company (think lots of teenagers) hanging around, sometimes staying for dinner. That means I tend to cook and buy in bulk. Now, however, I'm aiming more to buy just the amounts needed for each meal - 1 L bottles of oil instead of the 5 L, small cans of mayo and mustard instead of the jumbo ones. The pantry full of non-perishables that all expats are told to keep accessible and available, just in case something makes grocery shopping hazardous or impossible? We've pretty much eaten our way through our always-less-than-recommended-store.

Just last weekend, I went through our medicine cabinet... and I did pat myself on the back. Most of what's left I'll be taking with me as we travel, just in case someone has a headache or our daughter's allergy induced asthma starts acting up as we leave the dryness of this desert climate. As we do laundry, we pull out those clothes that don't look quite as faded by the line drying under the Sahara sun and stash those in suitcases. Most of the rest of our clothing will be given away.

I could keep on going with additional examples of how each couple of days, each weekend, I continue to direct my family through this gradual culling, but I'm pretty sure you get the picture. 

Frankly, it feels great - the confidence that we've stewarded our little treasures and delights well and that when we get to that final pack and our last few days in country, I won't be discovering anything forgotten... or have my family demanding that I seek therapy due to excessive hoarding.

This week, in fact, we're enjoying Craisins on our salads!

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How do you keep from being hunted by those hounds of hoarding?

Do you feel this is a stewardship issue or not?

Can you share about a time in your life where a fear of inadequate provision for the future prevented you from thoroughly celebrating the moment?

Other posts in this series of preparing to leave the field:

In which I'm charged by a hippo...
Jumping the Gun? Or Procrastination?
Turning over that TCK leaf
Three months AND three days AND counting...
Going Fishing...
An "infamous" word - at least for me
Conquering nightmares with dreams

Conquering nightmares with dreams

It has been an almost nightly wee hours of the morning occurrence for a few weeks now. Because of the heat and the excessive cost of air conditioning in this heat, we do what many other missionary families choose to do - we all sleep in one room. Yes... all ten of us, mattresses piles on the floor for the kids, furniture pushed up next to the walls, small battery powered lanterns for the biggers who want to continue reading or finishing homework after the lights go out, the thermostat set on 31' C, and many prayers that electricity continues at least mostly uninterrupted during the nighttime hours.

Of course, that means that littlest one stumbles to the bathroom sometime around midnight trips onto our waterbed and begins the slow process of plopping, flopping and kerplopping her way up to the pillows and the middle of the bed. It really reminds me of a fish on the shore trying to find its way back to where it needs to be. She then promptly smashes her nose against my face and I thank the Lord that the fan is still spinning. Otherwise sleep would become an impossibility, at least for me, in this heat with a little one smashed up against me.

Forty-five minutes or so later, I can usually extricate myself from her sweet but very tight grasp, roll over and go back to sleep, at least for awhile...

...until...

She starts kicking and pushing, thrashing about, muttering and crying - real tears. I hear her dad mumble something and throw a pillow over his head in frustration. I turn back towards her to wrap her in my arms and gently whisper her awake. Somewhere around the 5th night this has happened, I finally I make out some words: "big," "ugly," "mean" and "cockroach" clearly articulated... several times. A few nights later, having been able to distinguish those same words (as well as others), it is quite clear that she's developed a persistent cockroach phobia.

Katsaridaphobia. That's the "scientific" name for a fear of cockroaches. 

I can't blame her. I don't like them either and  we do seem to be seeing an inordinate number of the critters these days. It startles when one drops off the shower curtain on your shoulder, one scurries across your foot when you're walking to get a drink of cool water in the dark of the night or you lift the bed cover to make the bed and find what you thought was a dead one (until you try and dispose of it) just under the edge of your bed. Those insects are the reason she absolutely refuses to use the "private" toilets at church and hesitates at anything long and skinny poking out from under something and gently waving, antenna-like. I, myself, have not been particularly fond of them since my senior year of high school (I can't ever remember thinking of them before that) when my World Lit instructor insisted that the "monstrous vermin" in Kafka's Metamorphosis was, indeed, a cockroach. I must confess that I am guilty of teasing my husband that one of the perks of marriage is my prince willing and able to rid our world of those nasty fire breathing dragons roaches. 

Just kidding... sort of. 

My 17 year old boy would roll his eyes and tell you I'm not. As prince-in-training, he often gets drafted into said duty.

Why am I going on all about this? 

Now that I know my little one has repeated disturbing dreams about resilient, hard-to-kill big bugs with long wavy antennae that scare her, I can try and help her do something about it...

However, the point of this post is not a 12 step recovery program from katsaridaphobia.

Rather, I've been thinking much about the fact that one way to conquer the scary is to redirect focus on the hopeful.

God's Word says it like this:

"For the rest, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is worthy of reverence and is honorable and seemly, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely and lovable, whatever is kind and winsome and gracious, if there is any virtue and excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think on and weigh and take account of these things [fix your minds on them]." (Philippians 4.8, Amplified Bible)

We are trying to allow these thoughts to guide our table (and other) conversation as we talk together about our imminent reentry. 

So what sorts of things provoke leaving/reentry nightmares in this tribe of ten? 

• "I'm going to miss my friends Imogen, Mo Mo, Elayna, Caleb and Nata...,"
• "The reality that every time we leave, we might never be back...," 
• " Knowing I might never see Niger friends ever again...," 
• "Wondering if i'll be able to fit in and make friends, again...," 
• "Saying bye to my friends and packing up all my stuff. What if I forget something important and special or don't get to see someone or forget to say bye to them?...,"
• "Facing the possibility that I might never come back to Niger...," 
• "I really have no experience of what is about to come. It has always been predictable in the past, but I have no idea this time...,"
• "I'm going to miss Imogen. I won't get to see Jayson. God's Comfort says he likes me! And since my best friend is Australian, I talk some Australian now and what if people can't understand me? I also am afraid I won't have new friends to like me even when I do things different...,"
• "Stepping on a plane yet once again...," and
• "Not exactly knowing the next step."

We don't want to get lost in those nightmares, however. If all we look at is the scary, we can totally miss seeing out on the beautiful potential, the amazing, God-gifted fun and glorious parts of going back to our other home and being a part of life there again - for whatever amount of time God gifts us. 

So what sorts of happy dreams occupy the hearts and souls of these Wrightlings (and their parents)?

• "After what seems like forever (even though its only been two years) of always wondering what the next step might be, we finally know the next step and are taking it...,"
• "Andi's getting married to Uncle Joe and I get to see them and be one of their flower girls...,"
• "Andi's wedding and getting to be a flower girl and seeing all my girl cousins and grandparents..,"
• "Being able to be with family and big hugs at the airport...," 
• "Seeing family and watching Animal Planet on TV again...,"
• "Looking forward to a challenge and lots of new things, especially after the sometimes sameness of life here...,"
• "Seeing family and friends back in the States and having more time with them (and giving Grandpa Gene a hug and kiss with his new beard!)...,"
• "Exploring possibilities, renewing old friendships and relationships and walking with  trust and great expectations into whatever God has for this next time for our family...,"
• "Getting home delivered pizza, doughnuts that Mommy doesn't have to make, and getting to see Buddy, Jeremiah and Uncle Joe. Grandparents will be fun, too!...,"
• "All the new beginnings, fresh starts and wide-open opportunities I'll get to live...!"

Nuff said!

Other posts in this series of preparing to leave the field:

In which I'm charged by a hippo...
Jumping the Gun? Or Procrastination?
Turning over that TCK leaf
Three months AND three days AND counting...
Going Fishing...
An "infamous" word - at least for me

Three months AND three days AND counting...

...with both a sense of anticipation, nervousness and,

depending on the day,

either a little bit or a lotta bit of dread!

We've accomplished a lot since Christmas (in no particular order):

• Home assignment housing secured?     ✔
• Plane tickets purchased?     ✔
• Hotel reservations made?       ✔
• Travel vehicles, where required, rented     ✔
• Furlough vehicle purchased?     □
• Sell list/spread sheet made?     ✔
• 3 major recording studio projects?     1.5 ✔
• Plan for the studio while we are gone?     □
• Homes found for our pets (43 goats, 54 pigeons, 3 cats, 2 dogs)?     □    
• luggage that could be sent on ahead?     ✔
• Final packing lists?     ✔
• Brendan's senior pictures?     ✔
• College paperwork completed?     □
• Scholarship paperwork completed?     □
• Drivers' licenses renewed?     ✔
• Family vacation scheduled?     ✔
• Family vacation planned?     □
• House repairs and walls painted?     □
• Sell vehicle 1?     ✔
• Sell vehicle 2?     □
• Home school curriculum sorted, stored or delivered?     ✔
• Educational options/possibilities for our 8 children explored... discussed... evaluated... decided?     □
• Schedule meetings with home/sending church     □
• Schedule meetings with financial and prayer partners     □

In some senses, though? Those are all the easy things. They take time, but they are all relatively concrete and tangible. They can be put on a list and checked off as they are completed... and completion is usually pretty cut and dried. Either it is done or it isn't.

What about the intangibles that we have on our list?

Photo by Jessica Neff

Of course, many of those "intangibles" have to do with people - colleagues, friends, neighbors... all those dear folks we've come to love over the past years, those people who've become our family when we weren't near to our blood families.

Photo by Christine Banke

Whether or not there is the intention to return after a time of home assignment, preparing to leave well and recognizing that there is no guarantee for what the Lord might bring into our lives underscores the importance of ending well each term we spend in this expat world. Those preparations will inevitably include asking some probing, uncomfortable or even downright hard questions: 

• "What has/have been the high point/s of this term?"
• “What were some of the most difficult experiences?”
• "Where do I feel I've succeeded?"
• "How do I feel I have failed? Is this failure due to sin?"
• “How have I spied God working in my life personally, professionally and spiritually?”
• “What did I hope to achieve - long term goals and short term objectives?" 
• "Did I accomplish them, have I not yet achieved them, or are they currently in progress?”
• “The activities I have been involved with during this term - would I describe them as satisfying or fulfilling?  Are they consistent with my reasons for becoming a missionary in this particular place? Am I doing what I told our partners back in my home country I'd be doing? Do my activities apply to my specific responsibilities?"
• “What did/is God accomplish/ing through me?"
• “What have been the greatest roadblocks and frustrations I have encountered?"
• “Are there unresolved on-field relationships (expat and local colleagues) I need to reconcile before leaving?”
• "What goodbyes need to be said, how do they need to be said and what memories do I hope to make in the time remaining? How do I say goodbye well?"
• "What will I miss most when I am not here? How can I treasure that unique aspect of my life in these final times?" 
• "How do I help my children to ask, work through and answer all of these same types of questions?"

Photo by Sally Manhard 

What intangibles and questions to ask would be top of the list for you and your family... if you were leaving for home assignment this summer?

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Other posts in this series of preparing to leave the field:

In which I'm charged by a hippo...
Jumping the Gun? Or Procrastination?
Turning over that TCK leaf

Turning over that TCK leaf

I know this will come as no surprise to you - because most of you interact with them all the time!

But TCKs... third culture kids... are nothing short of amazing. Don't you agree?

bi-, tri-, multilinguists

cultural chameleons

experienced world travelers

flexible, adaptable, go-with-the-flow -ers

(think "flow" with a long o sound!)

fascinating conversationalists

both sophisticated and naive all at once 

kids who still almost always somehow stand out in a crowd, 

even when they try their best not to

I don't think I can think about, talk about, write about or look at them in any way objectively. I don't think I can even try.

I know I'm far more than a bit partial. 

I'm a mom to 8 of these amazing kids and I also teach at an international school where most of the students come from expat families and are TCKs from all over the globe. I've usually have some collection of them hanging out at my house any given day of the week.

As we prepare to head back to the States, one key concern is helping my children prepare for this transition. So lately I've been doing a lot of reading about "re-entry" to the passport country and have been learning a lot about reverse culture shock and what it means to be a "hidden immigrant."

Reverse culture shock isn't a new idea. I've experienced myself. First stepping off the plane, of course I'm exhausted from the stress of packing up, saying goodbye and the marathon of travel, but I'm also excited to be home, delighted to see and visit with people I've missed, experiencing reunions long anticipated - whether it be a dear friend or a favorite restaurant. But then I have to drive on the freeway for the first time and each time an 18-wheeler flies by me at 70 mph (or more), literally just feet distant, my heart  in my throat and my hands gripping that steering wheel as tight as possible - holding my breath and waiting for the truck to make one of the predictably unpredictable maneuvers taxis in town make at least a dozen times every trip to the store. Running to the store to pick up a box of cereal, loaf of bread and some juice for breakfast overwhelms because there are too many choices. And then there's the awkwardness of recognizing that even the very best of the clothes that we brought home look faded, dingy and about 3 or 4 years out of style. No one of those things in and of itself is horribly huge or impossible to handle, but it does leave me daydreaming nostalgic about the comfortable cruise life in my country of service had become, especially as compared to the rushing tumult of what I know should feel normal but instead seems so strange and uncomfortable.

Thankfully, though, that season does eventually pass and I settle back into the rusty but eventually recalled, remembered  and once again mostly comfortable routine of life back in my passport country.

TCKs experience this same sort of reverse culture shock, but there is an additional complication. Whereas for me, adjusting is like getting re-used to a comfy but long unworn old pair of shoes that had been shoved to the back of the closet, the same is not true for my children. For my kids, it will be more like breaking in new pair of shoes. For this crew of mine who much prefers to run around barefoot, I'm foreseeing stubbed toes, blisters and sore feet - both metaphorically and literally.

That is because my kids will be "hidden immigrants." Once back in our home country, they look like they should fit in. They speak the language. But? They think differently about the culture, about many of the things that are normal, expected and assumed to be common and often have some different perspectives on life and the world in general. So they look like they belong. The people around them assume they feel like they belong. But they still feel more like an outsider or a person on the fringe. And it isn't just a matter of re-habituating; they actually must learn new habits and practices.

How do I help my children prepare for this transition? I'll be detailing that more specifically in a few weeks. 

One thing for sure? 

We talk - a lot. I have to be sure there is time for my kids to share what is on their heart.

And I try and listen even more, only rarely offering suggestions or giving advice unless pressed. 

I'm taking notes on those things that they want to talk about and what seems to be a priority to each one. For one, it may be the pets and what will happen. Another is already grieving those friends who aren't here and with whom, there won't be the opportunity for a face to face goodbye. A third has so many thoughts and questions about college and the next step, while our littlest one has no memory of ever having been in our passport country but asks lots of questions and wants to imagine.

How about you?

How do you help your children prepare for the transition to home assignment or a more permanent relocation back to their passport country?

What sorts of things do your children talk about when they contemplate leaving and returning to their passport country?

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Other posts in this series of preparing to leave the field:

In which I'm charged by a hippo...
Jumping the Gun? Or Procrastination?

Jumping the Gun? Or Procrastination?

It seems like whenever there's a big change coming up, actually known about well in advance, people respond somewhere along a continuum moving from one to the other of two extremes:

• Ignore what is imminent and procrastinate, avoiding any type of preparation; or
• Dive so completely into preparing for an upcoming future that the present is missed or neglected.

I tend to be one who loves to prepare and I dive right in, ready for the next thing and dreaming of the future without wrapping up well current projects or adequately delegating responsibilities. I can so easily check out of the present by over-anticipating the future.

My husband can, on the other hand, be the proverbial ostrich burying his head in the sand, ignoring upcoming change and focusing on the present task at hand... until or unless provoked into doing something... anything... focused on the future.

Preparing well for a furlough, home assignment and especially a more permanent change of assignment requires a moderation of those individual, natural tendencies. Preparation necessitates some amount of looking forward. Finishing well requires focusing on the present and not checking out of current ministries and responsibilities because of preparations to leave and entering into that transitional phase. 

Most of the literature that I've seen or heard of designed to help missionaries or other international workers prepare for home assignment includes lots of checklists: questions to ask yourself, steps to take, how to close up house in one place while setting up house from a distance elsewhere, things to do 1 year out... 6 months out... 3 months out... last month... and finally, the actual day of... departure. Some are formatted with bullet points to check off; others are more like a flow chart. Others might look more like an idea map with general domains and areas to think about.

In general, there are many tools out there to use. You need to use one that fits you and your personality. You can search on line, talk to your organization (Some organizations have a required procedure to follow. Ours doesn't.), or make up something that best fits your personality. I'm home schooling our 7th grader this year and organization is one of those areas that does not come naturally for her, so she is helping me design and plan as we prepare for our upcoming home assignment.

My husband likes lists. I like idea maps. He tends to think chronologically. I tend to think spatially - starting in one room of the house and working my way through the house as I prepare. He prefers focused, scheduled times when he knows his job is to work on getting things in order. I like to try and do a little bit each day as I multitask. Neither one of us likes to be rushing about at the last minute. We'd rather live a bit sparsely, having only the bare necessities the last few weeks rather than trying to close up house the day of our flight. 

We also tend to divide and conquer - we delegate tasks, divvying them up so that we can each do the ones that we are better at. Because Tim likes lists, paperwork - visas, passports, plane tickets, hotel reservations, vehicle rentals, budgeting and expenses, etc. all tend to fall under his domain. Sorting, decluttering, selling, giving away, arranging times with people, packing, storing? Those tend to be the things I enjoy and so I naturally will start working on them.

The key things? 

Come up with a plan, in advance, that fits you and your family, that includes a balance between preparing for the future while maintaining momentum in the present as well.

Initiate that plan.

Then follow it or modify it as necessary.

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Do you find that you tend to lean towards one extreme or the other as you prepare for either large or small changes? Why do you think you act as you do?

How do you and your spouse respond and plan differently 

to upcoming change or big events in your lives? 

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Other posts in this series of preparing to leave the field:

In which I'm charged by a hippo...