Category: Friends

[Five Minute Friday] When

No matter how much you plan a lesson, a day, or a life – something will always go wrong.
Isn’t this the attitude we often have towards life? 
Well, what if things interrupt our plans, but in a very positive, surprising way?
Especially when you least expect it.

Today is my first day of the holidays. 
It was quite a delight walking out of the school yesterday and feel the knowledge flood me: You’re off for an entire week. You can sleep and rest. 
With these high spirits I walked downtown. 
At a traffic light I ran into a friend I had met in my first semester and hadn’t seen in quite a few years. 
I thought I would just say hello and then move on. 

I was wrong.

We started talking about what we’ve been up to for the last few years and a superficial chat quickly turned into a time of sharing about challenges and faith questions. 
We ended up going for coffee and a few minutes turned into a few hours. 
We left the café, smiling and incredibly blessed. 

I didn’t expect to run into that friend yesterday. 
I hadn’t planned to spend hours in a coffee shop hearing his life story. 
And yet I am so glad I did. 

What if life isn’t about perfect plans and anticipating all the negative possibilities? 
I guess life is more about our willingness to be interruptible. 
To be open for the people and things that come across our way each day. 
Because when we least expect it we will meet blessings in disguise. 
These kinds of interruptions won’t destroy our timetables – they’ll enrich our souls in ways no planned event ever could. 

——————————————————

Friday means writing party over at Kate Motaung‘s place! One prompt. Five minutes of flat writing. No editing. But loads of encouragement from fellow writers!

[Five Minute Friday] Keep

Things had to change.
After five years of studying theory at uni, it was time to put knowledge into practice. 
So I started a new job a few weeks ago. Actually, my first job ever. I am a teacher at a school nearby and the next 1.5 years I’ll be in training. People will watch and evaluate my teaching, there will be lots of late nights preparing and many early mornings.
I had heard quite a bit of rumors and horror stories about these years. 
“You won’t have a life during this time.” 
 “You’ll just live for school.”

So obviously I wasn’t that thrilled when I had to get up at 5.30 am for the first time in many years. 
I would cut all my extra curricular activities, no more social work. 
I would limit my relationships because I wouldn’t have time for people. 
I have to be an adult now. But is that really what it’s like?

Shortly after I started working I met a friend for lunch and she said something that stuck with me: 
“Don’t stop living. Keep the things in your life that keep you alive.”

I guess we all know situations that drain our energy. 
You might live through such a phase of life right now. 
You only go from day to day. 
You function, but you don’t live. 
And slowly by slowly you realize joy has left the house called your heart.

Don’t cut off everything.
Yes, life is not just about fun and easy going. 
Yes, there are times that really challenge us and take our energy.
But keep going. 
Keep the things and people in your life that push you forward. 
That touch something inside of you, below the surface. 
In German, we have a verb for that: “beleben” – it gives life to you.

Keep life inside of you. 
This might mean a good night’s sleep. 
A coffee date with a friend. 
Reading an encouraging and exciting book. 
Going for a run. 
In my case this means lots of cooking. 
Playing music in a band. 
Leading worship at church. 
Practicing my administrational skills at organizing congresses.

Find what gives life to you. 
Small things everyday, bigger things once in a while.
Don’t just function. 
Live!

————————————————————–
Friday means five minute of free writing over at Kate Motaung‘s place – come and join us!

[Five Minute Friday] Send

You never know what shape and sizes happiness comes in. 
Sometimes it can be just a small, square piece of paper. 
Filled with words of encouragement. 
As much as I like email and the speed we can communicate across continents these days — there’s nothing like opening your mailbox and finding handwritten letters from friends.

There’s something about putting pen to paper. 
A process of reflection takes place as I try to find the words to convey my feelings. 
It takes courage to share your heart. 
It takes boldness to send out a piece of yourself to someone else. 


But it is such a blessing. 
Someone else gets a glimpse into your heart and life. 
You enter a new level of friendship, you’re not strangers anymore. 
Someone else reads your words of encouragement in times when they need it the most. 

But the biggest blessing returns to you as you imagine their faces light up upon your letter. 
Their hearts lifted because of your words. 
Their faith renewed because of the faith you have for them.
And maybe they’ll be bold enough to reply and share a bit of themselves with you. 

Let’s be bold. 
Let’s not hide ourselves – our discouragement, struggles, and joys – from the world.
Let’s send out a bit of ourselves to others. 
Let’s speak words of encouragement where it is most needed.
Let’s send out happiness in an envelope.

Well, this is the theory. 
But I decided to do this in a very practical way and will join round five of #fmfpartysnailmail by Kaitlyn Bouchillon. 
You send out five cards and you’ll get five cards. 
You connect with wonderful women around the world. 
Just one little step, but I am excited to see what will come out of it!
If you’re ever interested in doing something similar, let me know – I would love to connect!

——————————————————————-

It’s Friday and as usual, I am meeting up with more wonderful writers over at Kate Motaung‘s place! Come and join the writing party!

Special: Favorite Christmas Memories

It’s Friday and I meet with many fellow writers over at Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday. 
Today’s prompt is ADORE. 

This feeling of awe in light of what we celebrate at Christmas. 
This sensation of joy as we recall childhood memories. 
Pure adoration for Christ in the midst of gift shopping and endless loops of annoying Christmas tunes is a piece of hard work. 
It’s so easy to just fall into routine and leave our heart’s response to all of this behind. 
Traditions can help us to focus on the important things again. Treasure the little steps of preparation. Feel the excitement and joy building.
Leadings our hearts to adoration. 

As a Christmas treat I have a guest on my blog today. 
Sophie Kröher is a dear friend of mine and she shares a few of her favorite Christmas traditions from the Eastern part of Germany with us. She is also a very, very talented photographer, so of course, you’ll find a bit of her work in here, too. 🙂 
Her thoughts are in German; I have attempted to translate it below. 

Von Würstchen in Mehl

Der Schatten der sich drehenden Pyramidenflügel an der Wand. 
Feine Nebelschwaden der Weihrauchkerzchen in der Luft. 
Leuchtend gelbe Punkte der Schwibbbogenkerzen, die sich im Fenster spiegeln. 
Das Kinstern und Knacken einer Schallplatte. 
Männeln wecken. 

Mamas zerstochene Hände vom Bögenbinden. 
Stollen buttern. 
Heimlich die Butter mit Puderzucker an einer Stelle abkratzen. 
Und dann, nach schier unendlich langem Warten:  den Tannenbaum schmücken, Linseneintopf löffeln, Würstchen in Mehl wälzen, die nach Braten riechenden Haare waschen, in die Metten gehen. 
Weihnachten im Erzgebirge. 
Mein Weihnachten.


Beim Männeln wecken, Bögen binden und Stollen buttern bin ich leider schon seit einigen Jahren nicht mehr rechtzeitig dabei. 
Pyramidenflügelschatten, Weihrauchnebelschwaden und Schwibbbogenkerzenspiegelungen habe ich mir wenigstens hergeholt. 
Aber morgen geht’s heim, rechtzeitig zu Mamas Linseneintopf – dem besten der ganzen Welt und des ganzen Jahres. 
Und um mit Papa Würstchen in Mehl zu wälzen. 
Mein Weihnachten. 
Daheim.


Sausages and Flour

The shadow of the pyramid wings moves along the wall.
Fine mist of the frankinscence candles in the air.
Bright yellow spots of the light arc are mirrored in the window.
The cracking sound of a vinyl.
To wake up the Männel (German tradition to put up the traditional frankinscence candle men).
Mom’s pierced hands while making the bows.
Butter the Stollen (Eastern German traditional Christmas loaf).
Scratch off the butter with powder sugar when no one is looking.
And then, after a long time of waiting: decorate the Christmas tree, eat lentil stew, roll sausages in flour, wash your hair smelling of meat, go to church.
Christmas in the Erzgebirge (Ore Mountains in the East of Germany).
My Christmas.

I haven’t made it in time for years to wake the Männel, make the bows, or butter the Stollen. A few things I managed to take with me, though – pyramids, frankinscence, and light bow. 
But tomorrow I will go home, just in time for Mom’s lentil stew – the best stew in the world and of the whole year. Just in time to roll sauages in flour with Dad.
My Christmas.
At Home. 

[31 Days] Day 30 Unite

It’s Day 30 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! You can find more info on the series here. Don’t forget to subscribe!

——————————————————————–

A few weeks ago I was at a friend’s birthday party when it happened. 
We were having a barbecue in the park and some friend had brought another friend. 
We introduced ourselves and started talking. 

We had just met and yet we felt like we had known each other for years. 
And so we spent the evening talking about our lives, exchanging fun stories and challenges. 
Because we knew the other would understand. 

This immediate connection is something so special among TCKs. 
It unites us no matter the countries we lived in, no matter the amount of time we spent abroad, no matter the place we’re in right now. 


It fascinates me every time I meet a TCK. 
May it be on a TCK camp where it takes one night of games and introductions to form intimate bonds with “strangers” that have become my second family over the years. 
May it be in unexpected places, like birthday parties, train rides, university seminars. 
In our globalized world there are more and more TCKs around us – missionary kids, diplomat kids, business kids, immigrant kids or people growing up around many cultures. 

We are all united by this one bond: we’ve seen what’s out there. 
It doesn’t have to be far, it just has to be outside our own little world and comfort zone. Once you’ve been out there, you feel a connection to others who have gone, too. 

Whenever I meet a TCK my heart rejoices (and sometimes I also break into a smile, hehe). Here is this one person who gets me, who can laugh at the fun stories and won’t look away at the hard ones. 
Here is this one person who can relate my stories to their own and it helps, encourages, maybe even comforts.
Meeting a fellow TCK is sometimes like meeting a friend for the first time and the sudden depth doesn’t feel awkward at all. 

I hope for every TCK out there that you meet others with similar stories, that you find out about who you are and have others around you to connect to, to share with, to bond with. 

A big shoutout to my TCK friends all around the globe – it is a blessing knowing you and walking a bit of life together!

Can you relate to this? It might also be true for other relationships when both aren’t TCKs. Any thoughts on this?


[31 Days] Day 28 Expect

It’s Day 28 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! You can find more info on the series here. Don’t forget to subscribe!
——————————————————————–

I came home from a year in South Africa being in love with the country and its people. The goodbye was incredibly hard and the re-entry to Germany was, too. 
I settled back into life, began university, started making new friends. 
But this deep longing and feeling of homesickness were my constant companion.

A few months later I had my debrief with the mission agency and they told me that for various reasons I would have the chance to go back for a short time. What a game changer! The summer semester couldn’t go by faster as my eyes and heart were set on July 29th, departure for my second home South Africa. 

A week before I left I had dinner with a few friends; we sat outside in the summer night and talked about my trip. And then one friend asked: 

What do you expect of this trip? 

This question stuck with me during my trip, which turned out to be different than I expected. 
Did I go back to cure my homesickness? 
Did I expect I would go back and everything would be alright again? 
Did I expect time would have stopped and I could just continue where I had left things? 


It was a bit of a homecoming. 
Flying into Johannesburg and driving to the farm from the airport felt so familiar. 
I recognized houses, towns, shops. 
Seeing “my” town again made my heart leap. 
And holding dear friends in my arms again felt a bit like healing. 
So yes, a bit of my homesickness was stilled, at least for two months. 

It was also a bit like a revelation. 
A shattering of expectations. 
The bubble of nostalgic idealization burst and I was left with reality. 
Things had changed, people had left and the perfect community we had had a year before did no longer exist. 
The people had made the experience so unique, and without them I couldn’t just simply replicate it. 
Things that had bothered me in the first year were still there, and I wondered how I could’ve idealized them, too. 

So no, my expectations were shattered. But in a positive way. 
When I returned to Germany the second time I knew a little bit better how to handle my homesickness. 
I still missed friends and certain things deeply, and they will always be close to my heart. However, I don’t give in to nostalgic longing for things anymore that are more of a burden than a blessing. 
My expectations were refined. 

For those of you who returned “home”, what were your expectations and experiences? 


[Five Minute Friday] Dare

It’s Friday and I am linking up with Kate Motaung and a great writer’s community. 
It’s Day 24 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! You can find more info on the series here. Don’t forget to subscribe!
——————————————————————–


TCKs are some of the most adventurous people I know. 
Many of who I met many years ago trying to fit in to Germany again are now back out there. 
Traveling the world, serving God in the hard places. 
Almost every day I get emails from younger TCKs I mentored on our TCK camps and who now go abroad again, following the travel bug. 
TCKs push themselves to new levels, countries, situations and from the outside I can often just smile and see them prosper. 

At our camps we dare them to do quite a lot and it is amazing to see what they make of it. 
The last night is always the best. 
Some sort of loose program, full with what the TCKs have to offer. 
I can only smile at the outbursts of creativity, musical skills, comedic talents. 
A formerly shy girl brings the whole house down with her jokes, and some guys don’t have a problem dancing in front of people they just met.

But it’s not always like this. 
Many TCKs come to our camps with parts of their adventure spirit missing. 
Buried in fear of what awaits them in Germany. 
We want to help them come alive again. 
Challenge them to try new things. 
They start daring to hope again that things will work out in their passport country. 
They dare to trust again. 
Trust that they’ll find new friends at a new place. 
Trust that God is the same, no matter how much they change. 

When did you have to dare yourself to step out? 

[31 Days] Day 22 Join

It’s Day 22 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! You can find more info on the series here.

Today I am very excited to hear from Rachel Cason, an adult TCK, in her last year of Ph.D studies on the impact of the TCK experience on identity, belonging and place. She has settled in England since her ‘re-entry’ from West Africa at 16, is divorced, a mum to a three year-old drama queen, and engaged to a vicar-to-be. We work together at Euro TCK, and it’s great fun to share TCK knowledge and jokes while planning conferences, strolling through the English countryside, or drying dishes for 100 people.:) 
———————————————————————

I spent a good number of my teenage years haunted by ice-breakers, and other “joining-in” games that enforced “fun”. 
For an introverted girl, worn out and intimidated by the regular meeting of new people, they were a nightmare to be avoided at all cost. 

Yet, when I returned to England at 16, after a childhood of transitioning between the mission community in West Africa and my “home” city in England, my strategy of “sitting it out” started to wear thin. 
Up until this point, furlough years in England were defined by minimal engagement with my passport peers, with me “joining in” only as much as was necessary to disguise the disinterest I had in their “parochial” lives. 
After all, we were from different worlds, and our collisions tended to feel like year-long ice-breaker scenarios, ended only by relieved goodbyes and plane journeys.

Upon arrival in England at 16 however, the return was more permanent, and no planes beckoned me towards an exit sign.


It was an English teacher who unwittingly issued the challenge to “join in”.
Chatting in class after a long dry summer, she bemoaned the death of a much loved fig tree from her garden due to the “drought”. 

At her words, and thoughtless misapplication of the word “drought”, I was rendered mute by my outrage.
Somewhere in the eye of the storm of my own emotions, a little voice whispered, “You can’t stay angry forever at people for simply not having had your experiences. If you are going to survive this, you are going to have to learn to like these people.”

I suddenly realised I had grown up appreciating the cross-cultural ability of learning to value the worldviews of people from various tribes in the Sahara, yet somehow assumed that I could dismiss the cultural worlds of middle England.


My doctoral research interviewing over 60 teenage and adult Third Culture Kids suggest that the struggle to “join in” is fairly universal. For those with highly mobile histories, investment on a local, or even national level is a challenge.
 There may even circulate the assumption that doing so would suggest stagnation; that “joining in” locally implies a loss of a global imagination and narrowing of cultural interests. 


I want to suggest, however, the restlessness and rootlessness experienced by many TCKs could be most effectively countered through local investment.
After all roots are organic, they can be developed and deepened through practise, if we only have the imagination and will to “join in”. 

How did you experience “joining in” when coming back to your passport country?

[31 Days] Day 20 Bug

It’s Day 20 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! You can find more info on the series here. Don’t forget to subscribe!

Today you can read the second part of a series done by Wera. 
We have known each other for years through the TCK camps we attended together. But only recently we talked and found this strange desire of rest inside of us. Are we allowed to rest or do we seem to have this bug inside of us that just makes us move all the time?
I am very happy that Wera shares her thoughts here with us! Here’s Part 1, in case you missed it!
———————————————————————
 
Of course I know that part of that longing can never be satisfied by any earthly thing or person, and that there is a spiritual dimension to rest which is not dependent on life circumstances. 
It is an intrinsic part of the human experience to carry a longing inside of us that we cannot quite define and that will never be fulfilled, but that nevertheless keeps driving us to look for something else in life – and I think TCKs feels this more acutely.
 

 

And yet my (albeit limited) experience of living in the same place for a bit longer has also taught me that there is a certain rest that comes with knowing your way around a place, knowing how people tick, and knowing who you are in relation to that particular place. And there is even more rest in deep friendships in which we are intimately known, and feel safe, understood and loved. 

 

But it takes time for this kind of intimacy and trust to grow. 

 

And yes, in the time that it takes to build strong relationships, routine also settles in and life can get dry and repetitive, and with that come the itchy feet. 

 

And yet there is something very beautiful in connecting more deeply with a place and its people over a longer period of time, and although it sometimes sucks, it’s an experience that’s worth sticking around for. 
I’ve noticed that for me, less adventure and less change often seem to bring more rest for my soul and personal growth of a different type – the type that strengthens my roots rather than my wings.
 
And the older I get, the more my soul seems to long for rest over adventure. 
At the moment I oscillate between feeling thirsty for adventure and full of excitement and energy for all the things I could do with my life now that I’ve finished university, and between feeling overwhelmed at the vastness of options in front of me and apprehensive about a lack of stability in the next few years. 
Most people at my stage in life have at least some basic variables in place (they tend to have some fairly set ideas about where to live, who with, and/or what they want to do), but I seem to lack any sort of parameters in my life. 
 
And whilst part of me is excited and grateful to be so free and independent and not tied to any particular place, person or profession, part of me is also envious of friends who are already much more settled or heading in a clear direction in life. 
I’m beginning to accept that my attitude towards moving has become more complex and somewhat paradoxical, and that it’s okay to be confused about what I want. 
We’ll see which of these contrasting feelings and desires end up dominating my life. 
But for now, I’m going to acknowledge, and welcome, the fact that alongside my continuous longing for change and adventure, a new longing for rest and stability has also crept up – and it seems to be growing.
 
How do you deal with your feeling of restlessness? Is the strange desire for rest familiar to you? 

[31 Days] Day 19 Rest

It’s Day 19 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! You can find more info on the series here. Don’t forget to subscribe!

Today you can read the first part of a 2-day series done by Wera. She is German but grew up in Guinea-Bissau and likes to pretend that she’s British. She’s just graduated from Durham University with a BA in Arabic and politics, and is currently working as an aupair in Spain.

We have known each other for years through the TCK camps we attended together. But only recently we talked and found this strange desire of rest inside of us. I am very happy that she shares her thoughts here with us! 
———————————————————————
 
Feeling restless is an intrinsic part of my identity. 
As a TCK who has moved frequently, I’ve experienced and internalised a colourful (and sometimes confusing) mixture of cultures, habits, beliefs, traditions, languages and relationships. 
Constant change and diversity seem to be of a somewhat addictive nature, and I have often noticed in myself a deep restlessness and a strong urge to move and experience something new that seems to kick in after around two years of staying in the same place.

 

 

By the time I was 12 I’d already moved about a dozen times, but then my family settled more permanently in Germany. After a couple of years it dawned on me that I would essentially have to stay in Germany for several more years until I finished high school. 

Not only did that thought fill me with dread, but I couldn’t even truly conceive of it, having never lived anywhere for more than three years at the very most. 

 

I promptly began to think about ‘escape routes’, and ended up going to England for an exchange year at the age of 15. What was meant to be just one year abroad to get some restlessness out of my system turned into a string of adventures in various countries. 

 

 
Seven years later, I’ve just moved for the eighth time since, this time to Spain, after having lived in the UK, France and Palestine. When people hear my life story they often ask me which country I’d like to settle in eventually. I never really get that question. 
I just cannot imagine life without moving frequently, so I usually joke that even if I found paradise, I’d still get bored and restless and would want to move after 2-3 years.
 
However, as much as I struggle to imagine being settled or even living anywhere more long-term (which I’d define as 3+ years), I’ve recently discovered in myself a strange new desire quietly creeping up alongside the one for adventure and change – a desire for stability and rest.

 

I’ve just graduated from university and am currently working as an aupair in Spain for a few months; after that I hope to find a job teaching English in the Middle East for a couple of years before maybe doing an MA in goodness-knows-where. My parents and siblings are about to be scattered across three different continents. 
So the next few years look unlikely to hold much constancy for me, and I’m surprised to now notice in myself not just excitement, but also exhaustion, at this thought. 
After all my experience of moving, I know the joy of engaging with and learning from people with a different culture and worldview to mine – but I also know the frustration of not being able to fully express myself and being misunderstood because of language and cultural barriers. 
I know the thrill that comes from exploring new places and experiencing a new way of life – but I also know what it feels like to be lonely and homesick. 
And when I say ‘homesick’, what I mean is not a longing for a particular place or particular people, but for a particular feeling – one of rest, of belonging, of being seen and understood for who I really am, and accepted and loved as such. 
 
Stay tuned for Part 2 tomorrow!