Hopefully you know by now (unless you’ve just stumbled across our blog) that we are planning to work with missionary kids at Black Forest Academy. As part of our preparation, I’ve been reading (rather slowly) Third Culture Kids by David Pollock and Ruth Van Reken. Missionary kids are third culture kids (TCKs), which means they’ve spent a significant period of their formative years outside their passport countries. I’ve also been going to counseling for the past few months. One of the things that keeps coming up, in the book and counseling, is grief.
I moved a lot growing up. I believe I moved 12 times in my first 14 years of life. I don’t know if I technically qualify as a TCK, but I do relate to some of the aspects of TCK life. One thing I’d never realized is that there is a grieving process to moving. Let me tell you, that was an eye-opening chapter. According to the book, the transition cycle for moving is Involvement, Leaving, Transition, Entering and Reinvolvment. Okay, in and of itself, that doesn’t really mean much. The wow moment for me was reading about the Leaving stage, which isn’t talking about getting on a plane and heading to your new home, although that’s part of it, but about emotionally removing yourself from your home. You begin to loosen emotional ties, back out of responsibilities and refrain from taking new ones, and stop making new friends.
So, for the first time, I’m aware of this process. We’re in this strange sort of limbo. We’re preparing to move to another country to start a whole new life. We’ve basically sold all of our possessions, we’ve moved in with friends, we’ve given our cat away, we’ve quit our jobs, but we’re still here. And, instead of pulling away from our relationships, we’re strengthening them and making new ones, because everyone here is vital to our success at BFA. And I don’t mean financially, although we do need money, but, emotionally and spiritually. The people here will, in many way, sustain us as we serve in Germany. Instead of distancing ourselves from friends, family and church, we’re trying to become even more connected to our lives here, so that we have an anchor of people from which we can launch ourselves into BFA.
And it’s weird.
People ask me how things are going and how we’re doing, and I don’t really know what to tell them. We’ve sold all of our stuff, all of our wedding gifts. We never took any photos of our apartment, the only home we’ve know since we’ve been married. We’re living with someone else. We gave our cat away, and I bawled and I want her back. We want to be in Germany, but we’re not. We want to get to know our friends better and to love them better, but then it will hurt that much more when we have to leave.
So I think I’m experiencing grief. I’m glad to know that is what’s happening, and that it’s normal, and that it will keep happening. But it’s strange.
I’ve been thinking about home, and what that means. TCKs often don’t know where home is. I can identify with that right now, because, apparently, home isn’t a place. It’s not your things. Or where you live. Or comfort food.
What I’m trying to get at is that this whole missionary thing can be hard at times, and we haven’t even left yet. We’re in process. We’re learning and changing and grieving. I’m grieving the apartment (that I never liked), and our possessions (that I wasn’t very attached to) and our cat (whom I loved). I guess the fact that I even care about leaving our apartment shows that this really is a transition. And maybe it really is a sacrifice. It didn’t seem like much of a sacrifice before it happened, and even now, it doesn’t seem like much of one. And I’m actually glad to do it, because I’m so excited about what God has for us at BFA. But I guess it is a sacrifice to leave all of your things and what you’ve known, for something that has no guarantees.
I guess I wanted to let you all know how we, or at least I, am doing. In one sentence, I think this whole transition period is strange. That’s really the best word I can think of to describe it.
