After nearly eight months of living here, I still feel that way sometimes. The periods between the peaks and valleys are widening, but I still have both. Now that we are approaching the holiday season of Thanksgiving (which is, of course, not celebrated here), Christmas, and New Years, it is very easy to feel homesick.
Before I sound like a terrible missionary, let me explain. Often the reason I want to go home is not a rejection of life here, but rather a mourning for what has been left behind. I don't necessarily dislike living here or want to leave, but I wish I could still have access to our church and our friends and family. I wish we could drive home for Christmas. I wish our kids could grow up knowing their relatives and being comfortable around them. I wish we had family around the corner or down the block (or even downstairs) like some of our Slovak friends do. I wish I could understand everything that is being said around me. I wish that life could be "normal". (There's a lot wrapped up in that sentence, but that will require another post.)
I was fairly certain I'd experienced culture shock at nearly the beginning of our time here, but it probably was culture and transitional stress. We had so many issues with our residence permit papers and our container, that nearly every day was emotionally and physically exhausting. We didn't have a car and we didn't have internet for over a month. I was trying to home school, unpack, study vocabulary, and adjust to a new culture. It was highly stressful. I found myself so tired that some days I had to take a nap just to feel like I could function properly. I shed plenty of tears. Sundays and Wednesdays were my hardest days - I missed our church and my ladies' Bible study group. I was excited to finally be here after over three years of pre-field, but I also wondered what in the world we were doing to ourselves and our boys. And I wanted to go home.
May seemed to be the month when it all came together. We had finished unpacking, our residence permit applications had all been accepted and granted, we bought a car, our internet finally started working properly, and we were learning where things were located. We wrapped up the school year and headed into summer. I actually did fairly well through the summer. We went on two shorter vacations, we enjoyed two English camps, and we had two separate visits from one of our supporting churches. I began meeting with a tutor so she was helping me put some of the puzzle pieces of the Slovak language together in my mind.
The end of August brought a low point. Our second visitor had just gone home, the school year was less than a week away, and AW*ANA would soon be starting up at home. One afternoon I crawled into bed in tears. I pulled out the cards people wrote for us at our commissioning service - promises of prayer, Scripture, and encouraging notes. It helped me refocus my mind and move forward.
Since that time, I've had things to look forward to - our bi-annual regional conference in Bulgaria, a visit from a couple from our sending church, and the boys' fall break from school. Each of those things gave me something to anticipate, something to count down to. The anticipation of those things helped me through the valley times. At this point we don't have anything certain to count down to, except for Christmas break.
This will be our first Christmas away from family. We've always been with either Jason's family or my family for Christmas, even when we lived far away. The things we are used to will be different. The people we usually see will be celebrating without us. We won't sit around Aunt Linda's large, oval table and enjoy desserts of all sorts and great conversation with Jason's relatives. The boys will not open presents with their cousins or grandparents.
And we have been told this is the time period when culture shock typically hits - between 6 and 18 months. It is when the honeymoon stage, the newness and excitement, have worn off. When the reality of the culture and the difficulty of the language faces you. When the thought of four years without seeing familiar faces and places is a stark reality.
I think that's where I can easily find myself right now. I am thankful for so many things here, but yet on some days my heart literally aches to go home. I can't listen to the Christmas music Jason wants to start playing. I can hardly think about Thanksgiving or decorating for Christmas without coming to tears. Yesterday during tutoring we started talking about the holidays. I made it through the food without any problems. It was when I started talking about the things we do on Thanksgiving that I melted into tears. A Kleen*ex from my tutor and a topic change helped me refocus. I find myself wanting to go online to buy Christmas presents, even though I know I can't. I find myself thinking of what we used to do for the holidays and I wonder if/how we'll get to do those things this year. I think of all our grandparents and wonder if I'll celebrate another holiday with them or if they'll pass away before our first furlough.
The Lord is teaching me that my location should not determine my ability to worship Him and likewise, it should not affect my ability to enjoy the upcoming holidays. We can celebrate them here. We can make new memories, new traditions. Rather than sitting on the couch and pouting (or curling into a ball in my bed and crying) I need to celebrate Christmas just as I would any other year. It is important for me, yes, but it is even more important for my boys. My attitude, whether positive or negative, will impact them - possibly for years to come. Christmas is the celebration of our Savior's birth, not Christmas cookies, presents, good food, or even laughing with family around the dinner table. Maybe by being stripped of some of those peripheral (albeit good) things, I will be more focused on the best thing. Jesus. A baby born in a manger. The One Who can help me through any difficult time I face. The One Who called us here to share of His birth with others.
The Lord has brought us through so much to get us here and to keep us here and has met our needs in so many ways. We have no plans to turn back or to throw in the towel. At the same time, we know the holidays will not be easy. I once had a veteran missionary tell me that Christmas is still a challenging time for her.
It's not because we are here, it's because we can't also be there. As the song says,
3 comments:
{{Hug}}. God loves you enough to be "Father to the fatherless". I will pray that He wraps His loving, almighty arms around you and gives comfort.
Oh man - way to leave me bawling on the couch! I have so many conflicting feelings about the holidays this year, too (although for a much different reason). I wish that we could be in the same place to help each other struggle through. I'll pray, Dellie. I promise to lift you up to our Lord on these special days that usually revolve around family & tradition. Love you!
Mare, we can lift each other up to the Lord. We've experienced that first holiday season as well, paired with the reality that one of the holidays was also the first anniversary. Both of us need to find the joy of Christmas in Christ, not in the stuff, the people, and the "normal". Finding a new "normal" is so important. That is what we will be doing this year and that is what your family will be doing as well. Accepting and appreciating the new "normal" takes time, but it does come. Your mom and Jason's dad have the best spot for Christmas and one day we'll get to be there with them too! Hugs from across the miles!
Thanks, Rebecca!
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