The last few months have been tiring. Many of the reasons are predictable - busy work schedules for both of us involving a lot of travel, homeschooling the children, being involved in church and regularly hosting meetings in our home, runs of minor illnesses, and sometimes just the thing where being in a 'different' culture can make simple tasks seem a lot more tiring than one might expect.
A friend shared this article about 'ten things a missionary may not tell you' - I resonated with some of this. Indeed, last year, I wrote about how I think the best ways to support your cross-cultural overseas workers is sometimes to simply be a friend and remain in contact and keep the relationships alive. Sometimes I share these kind of links with friends in the hope that they hear me, and realise just how aching the loneliness can be at times, but somehow I find it hard to be 'heard' and that can only compound the feelings of isolation and misunderstanding.
However, today there blew a breath of fresh air. I have some colleagues from the UK who are here for a few days, one in Africa for her first time. So the children and I took them downtown - not to the particularly tourist places, but to the places where you can buy fabric cheaply, where you see men carrying huge packages on their heads (my favourite must be when they stack about twenty mattresses up high!), to where children crawl around the stalls, and where you think it must be possible to buy just about anything if you knew where to look. But the thing I found remarkable was that it didn't seem strange at all. Here we were, in a part of town where you rarely see foreigners, with four children in tow, darting in and out of traffic and dodging the head-carriers, but it just felt normal. There were one or two things (like crossing the chaotic taxi park) that I used to find absolutely terrifying and completely perplexing all in one, but somehow even that felt normal. My friends assured me that this absolutely was not normal and it was completely eye opening and crazy.
What I realised was that this is home. The children were leading the way, explaining about all kinds of things (some of the history, the different types of military vehicle on the street, the different street foods they prefer) and I saw just how at home they are here too.
Often the loneliness I feel is not a consequence of being overseas from my passport country, so much as a phase of life. My children are young and still require a lot of input and supervision. When my husband is overseas, I rise very early and stay up very late to get my academic work completed. The only evenings I don't work are when I am hosting a Christian meeting of some type, often leading a Bible study and making sure everybody is comfortable, with drinks and cake. There just isn't a whole lot of time for 'socialising'.
I remember when we left our neighbourhood in the UK, how I hadn't quite realised how settled we were and how strong some of the relationships were until it was time to leave. I think I am beginning to see that here. My children love the Bible studies, especially when one of the young men comes a little early to play raucous games outside with them. Their favourite songs are in multiple different languages. They enjoy laughing (in a healthy way) at the differences between the cultures (and in return, are often laughed at too - the people here have a very robust sense of humour).
I was encouraged to simply give thanks that this is our home. This is where God has brought us, and where He has provided community, fellowship and life.
Yes, there are tiring days, lonely days, and sometimes sad days. But these are irrespective of my physical locality - and I must take care to see that as the case.
And now, I must stop blogging and return to preparing Sunday lunch for a group of friends who will join us here.
A friend shared this article about 'ten things a missionary may not tell you' - I resonated with some of this. Indeed, last year, I wrote about how I think the best ways to support your cross-cultural overseas workers is sometimes to simply be a friend and remain in contact and keep the relationships alive. Sometimes I share these kind of links with friends in the hope that they hear me, and realise just how aching the loneliness can be at times, but somehow I find it hard to be 'heard' and that can only compound the feelings of isolation and misunderstanding.
However, today there blew a breath of fresh air. I have some colleagues from the UK who are here for a few days, one in Africa for her first time. So the children and I took them downtown - not to the particularly tourist places, but to the places where you can buy fabric cheaply, where you see men carrying huge packages on their heads (my favourite must be when they stack about twenty mattresses up high!), to where children crawl around the stalls, and where you think it must be possible to buy just about anything if you knew where to look. But the thing I found remarkable was that it didn't seem strange at all. Here we were, in a part of town where you rarely see foreigners, with four children in tow, darting in and out of traffic and dodging the head-carriers, but it just felt normal. There were one or two things (like crossing the chaotic taxi park) that I used to find absolutely terrifying and completely perplexing all in one, but somehow even that felt normal. My friends assured me that this absolutely was not normal and it was completely eye opening and crazy.
What I realised was that this is home. The children were leading the way, explaining about all kinds of things (some of the history, the different types of military vehicle on the street, the different street foods they prefer) and I saw just how at home they are here too.
Often the loneliness I feel is not a consequence of being overseas from my passport country, so much as a phase of life. My children are young and still require a lot of input and supervision. When my husband is overseas, I rise very early and stay up very late to get my academic work completed. The only evenings I don't work are when I am hosting a Christian meeting of some type, often leading a Bible study and making sure everybody is comfortable, with drinks and cake. There just isn't a whole lot of time for 'socialising'.
I remember when we left our neighbourhood in the UK, how I hadn't quite realised how settled we were and how strong some of the relationships were until it was time to leave. I think I am beginning to see that here. My children love the Bible studies, especially when one of the young men comes a little early to play raucous games outside with them. Their favourite songs are in multiple different languages. They enjoy laughing (in a healthy way) at the differences between the cultures (and in return, are often laughed at too - the people here have a very robust sense of humour).
I was encouraged to simply give thanks that this is our home. This is where God has brought us, and where He has provided community, fellowship and life.
Yes, there are tiring days, lonely days, and sometimes sad days. But these are irrespective of my physical locality - and I must take care to see that as the case.
And now, I must stop blogging and return to preparing Sunday lunch for a group of friends who will join us here.
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