“So, you’re taking a sabbatical? That will be a nice long break!”
Oh if only, I think. I sure could use that right about now. I am sure this sentiment is familiar to all of us who have prepared for a home assignment from our ministry areas. We have received this kind of comment on both sides of the ocean—in our ministry area and our passport country. At times, we have attempted to clarify the intent and details of our time, but we have also laughed and left it. Who has the energy to correct all assumptions?
This living-between-places takes a unique kind of toll on our family, on our emotions, on our hearts. We may feel we have established a home and a good work and a community in one place; then our extended time back in our passport country arouses all varieties of feelings around home, and work, and community.
We are preparing to leave for our home assignment in less than a month. This time around, I am keenly aware of the experience of my growing children. How awkward will they feel? How distinctly will they notice that they don’t “fit” and how much will this bother each of them? How do I prepare them for this experience, particularly when I am not sure how even to prepare myself?
I am not a third culture kid specialist, nor is this list exhaustive, but here are a few reflections on helping our kids (and ourselves) to deal with that awkward, unbelonging feeling, and the challenges that come from transitioning between cultures.
It’s okay to grieve that sense of belonging.
This is part of the process – of understanding our desire to fit in, or at least to not stand out so much. At times, the healthiest step could be to shed some tears of disappointment that we have not felt at home like we had hoped, that we feel uncomfortable in certain situations, that we are different. It may be easy to gloss over the less comfortable emotions and jump into the many positive things: look at this great adventure! Isn’t it cool how much traveling our family has done? Isn’t it exciting that… you name it. How many times well-meaning people have said things like this to us, when really, I just wanted someone to acknowledge to me that yes, this is hard, and it’s okay to be sad about it. We get to be those people for our children who need it, as we pay close attention to their hearts and listen to their fears.
It’s good to have some boundaries.
We are already talking with our children about how they may have a spotlight on them at different times, and it’s okay to say I’d rather not say at times. We have already asked them about who wants to be involved in our presentations, or who would rather sit out. We are not planning on parading our children in front of audiences in local outfits, singing in our local language, unless this is something they want to do, and want to share. There is an opportunity to tell our children in many small ways that we value them as people, and our family is a safe space.
Our life and experiences have made us unique.
We may feel like we don’t belong, we may feel awkward in certain social settings, but what is most true is that this life God has given us is a unique one—and we are becoming unique people because of it. We can choose to focus on how we do not fit in, or we can see how our experiences have made our lives—and us—interesting and balanced people. There are all kinds of losses to this kind of life, and there are many, many gifts.
Our ultimate belonging is in the family of God, which is not bound to a country or culture or particular place.
More than any kind of patriotic identity or TCK identity, I want my children to be rooted in their identity in Christ, which transcends all other illusions of identity. I want them to understand that being a daughter of God means their true citizenship is in heaven, and that this longing we feel to belong fully somewhere here on earth is going to be, gloriously, one day fulfilled completely when we live in Christ’s presence. We can point our kids to the reality that when we feel longing to belong, we already do: to God.
Challenges help us grow more dependent on Jesus.
Even in these hard moments that may come our way, we can trust that God is using them to grow our spiritual muscles, our dependence upon Jesus. Even when we feel awkward, like we don’t belong, or sad and disappointed, we know that Jesus is always with us, that he is our dearest friend and ultimate help in times of trouble.
Part of me grieves the awkwardness that I know my children will experience; I wish I could protect them from it all. And yet, I can see that God can and will use these experiences to knit our family together, to teach us, to grow our minds and hearts in dependence on Jesus. At the end of this home assignment, we will have some great stories, hopefully that we can laugh at, and a growing sense of the privilege of living and working and being in God’s great big world.
How do you help prepare your kids in seasons of transition?
We just transitioned back to our country of service a month ago, after a 9month furlough, and previously 3 long, hard pandemic years. My husband and I weren’t sure what to expect upon returning, since we left during some of the hardest lockdowns. So we talked through with our (older) kids what it may look like, but really took a hands-off/wait-and-see approach, because there just really wasn’t any predicting! This gave us ample opportunities to remind them (and ourselves!) that the Father was paving the road back…and there was no better place to be than in His care. Like you said, our faith muscles grew as we anticipated the return, and oh so thankfully, it has been a wonderfully smooth transition for everyone!
If you don’t care, it doesn’t hurt. It’s sometimes easier to slip into an uncaring attitude, put up walls, and seek out and only value time with others who have experienced the same. However we know that is not the attitude that glorifies Him. Spending some time escaping into those relationships during “home” visits can bring some relief.