Today I have the immense pleasure to introduce my friend Hannah to you. We met through Unterwegs, a student group we’re both part of, and meet up for coffee, dinners, chats ever since. She and her husband are such great encouragers and friends! For the next three days, Hannah will share a few mundane narratives of her own. Continue reading “A Coat to Grow Out Of”
Category: Guest blog
Navigating the Turbulent Ocean Called Life
I was two when we moved for the first time.
Ever since then I’ve never lived in one place for more than six years. Due to my dad’s job and my parents’ global attitude, we have moved across town, cross country, and overseas. As a German native, I’ve also lived in Uganda, South Africa, and the US.
Transitions are not easy.
They challenge us, shake up our beliefs of who we are, of how the world looks like and functions, of how God is or seemingly isn’t at work in our lives.
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I am thrilled to be featured with this story at Ashley Hales’ Circling the Story today! Come join me to read the rest of this piece here!
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 27 Visit
It’s Day 27 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 I am very honored to introduce my last guest blogger to you. We have never met in person, but I follow her blog which always encourages me. A TCK herself and mom to TCKs, Marilyn just has so much wisdom and expertise which she knows how to put into touching and powerful words. Marilyn writes at her own blog Communicating Across Boundaries, but I am incredibly blessed to have her over at my small place today. When I read her post for the first time it deeply resonated with me, and I hope you’ll enjoy it, too. Thank you so much, Marilyn, for your wisdom! Please read more about her at the
end of the post.
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“So – are you visiting?”
The question took me completely by surprise.
We had returned to Cairo for our first trip two years after leaving.
Cairo had been our home for seven years.
We had returned to Cairo for our first trip two years after leaving.
Cairo had been our home for seven years.
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| photo credit: Marilyn Gardner |
It was in Cairo that we had watched three of our five children take their first steps.
It was in Cairo where our youngest two were born, three years apart.
It was our community in this city that had loved us and cared for us through pregnancies and sickness; through post-delivery chaos and family crises; and through packing up and leaving when the time came.
The apartment we lived in still had markings of our children’s measurements on the doorpost. We had seen these just a day before while with our friends.
Cairo had been home for a long time and it broke our hearts to leave.
We said goodbye to all those things we loved so deeply.
Rides in huge, wooden boats called feluccas on the Nile River; Egyptian lentils (Kosherie) with the spicy tomato sauce and crispy fried onions to top it off; friendships that had been forged through hours of talking and doing life together; a church that was one of a kind with people from all over the world.
So when the woman asked me the question I didn’t know what to say.
A lump came into my throat and I willed myself to hold back the tears.
“Yes. Yes – we are visiting.” Pause “We used to live here…..” my voice trailed off.
The words ‘Visit’ and ‘Live’ are worlds apart.
Visit means stranger, tourist, one who goes and stays in a place for a “short time.”
The dictionary definition is clear on this.
It goes on to add “for purposes of sociability, business, politeness, curiousity…”
Visit means stranger, tourist, one who goes and stays in a place for a “short time.”
The dictionary definition is clear on this.
It goes on to add “for purposes of sociability, business, politeness, curiousity…”
By contrast, the word live means “to dwell, to stay as a permanent resident.”
It was like being slapped on the face by someone you trust.
We were no longer permanent residents in Cairo, Egypt.
Our visas, stamped into our blue passports, no longer gave us legal resident status. Instead, they gave us only temporary permission to be in the country.
We did not have permission to dwell, to live, to work.
We only had permission to stay for a short time – to ‘visit.’
We were no longer permanent residents in Cairo, Egypt.
Our visas, stamped into our blue passports, no longer gave us legal resident status. Instead, they gave us only temporary permission to be in the country.
We did not have permission to dwell, to live, to work.
We only had permission to stay for a short time – to ‘visit.’
The grief that washed over me was acute and I wanted to bury myself in it.
I wanted to be able to grieve with abandon, to cry the tears I had wanted to cry since leaving two years prior.
I wanted to cry tears that would water the dusty ground that surrounded me, ground that had not seen water for a long time.
But I couldn’t.
Because indulging in the grief at that moment would have taken me away from the place that I loved, the people that I loved.
When a third culture kid suddenly finds himself or herself a stranger, a visitor in a land they once claimed the grief is acute and necessary.
And there is no way around but through.
Trying to avoid the reality is not helpful.
But this I know: More difficult than a visit would have been no visit at all, far harder than facing my current reality would have been dreaming a dream in a country far removed and never getting to experience this beloved place again.
So I held in the grief until a better time, swallowed hard, and went on my way.
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Marilyn Gardner is an adult third culture kid who grew up in Pakistan and raised her own third culture kids in Cairo, Egypt before moving to the United States. She is author of the recently released book Between Worlds: Essays on Culture and Belonging available now at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Powell Books.
[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.:)
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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.
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?
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.”
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.
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!
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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!
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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!
[31 Days] Day 16 Life
It’s Day 16 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 I am very excited to have Katrin Dubach as a guest. We met while working for the European Youth Congress Mission-Net and got along right away (seems to be a TCK thing J). She writes beautiful poetry, and today she shares a bit of her story and a wonderful piece of her work on TCK life.
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I was excited to start my gap year and I knew it was time for my high school years to end. And yet I was scared and sad.
I was at the airport saying goodbye to them for the last time after our class trip and everyone was telling me that of course we’d see each other again and I didn’t have to cry.
I was really glad I cried, I wanted to cry because for me it was like saying, “I loved this time we had together and I’m going to miss it.”
I’ve said many goodbyes in my life.
I grew up in Mongolia as a missionary kid and went to an international school.
In international communities, saying goodbye is so much a part of our lives.
Relationships are never expected to last for forever, just for their season.
I went to boarding school in Singapore when I was 10 and then with 14 I said goodbye to Asia for good and moved to my passport country Switzerland, where I’ve been living for 5 years now.
At one point in those weeks of change from school to something new in my gap year, I stopped and prayed.
“God I don’t know if I can do this, I don’t know if I have the energy for this life. Saying goodbye so many times, finding new friends so many times, I don’t know if I can take the pain of losing more people close to me.”
God answered me by showing the beauty of this life I’m leading.
The beauty of cherishing the days we’ve been given and the people placed around us.
I came to a point where I knew for myself: I want to live this life fully, to let myself feel life because the joys of life are so worth it, and in God’s strength the pain is bearable.
The Constant
I’m ready to start this life adventure
To let people in,
To hurt, to bleed
Radiant faces of long-lost friends
Tears falling at every goodbye
Memories stored and saved on the way
A portable album of good and of bad
Laughter and hope, joyful tears
Blessings in an immeasurable dimension
To let people in,
To hurt, to bleed
Radiant faces of long-lost friends
Tears falling at every goodbye
Memories stored and saved on the way
A portable album of good and of bad
Laughter and hope, joyful tears
Blessings in an immeasurable dimension
Through the tossing and turning
Through up and through down
Next to new and old
Above fear and excitemen
You stand as constant
And it’s Your hand I’ll take,
For this life adventure
Through up and through down
Next to new and old
Above fear and excitemen
You stand as constant
And it’s Your hand I’ll take,
For this life adventure
[31 Days] Day 13 Fear
It’s Day 13 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! We are slowly moving deeper in the topic and looking into some issues TCKs might struggle with.
Today another TCK friend Daniel Vedder is sharing his thoughts. Daniel grew up in Congo DR, Zambia and Germany. After finishing his schooling in Germany, he is currently doing a gap year back at his old school in Zambia.
You can find more info on the series here. Don’t forget to subscribe!
Today another TCK friend Daniel Vedder is sharing his thoughts. Daniel grew up in Congo DR, Zambia and Germany. After finishing his schooling in Germany, he is currently doing a gap year back at his old school in Zambia.
You can find more info on the series here. Don’t forget to subscribe!
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Fear.
Everybody knows what it is, everybody has encountered it at some point.
There are many different types of fear.
Fear of snakes, fear of the dark, fear of death.
And then there is the fear of the unknown.
I think this is one particular fear that most TCKs can relate to.
I remember it only too well myself, returning to my passport country of Germany three years ago, after a childhood spent almost exclusively in Africa.
I vividly recall stepping out of the airport and seeing the lights of the city of Frankfurt light up the night sky.
And suddenly I felt fear – fear of what lay ahead, of the society that I would have to adapt to, but most of all simply a fear of the great unknown surrounding me.
And then again some weeks later, on the first day of school.
After my small mission school of 100 pupils I was terrified as I walked into the new school, a huge maze of corridors and classrooms filled with a jostling throng of over a thousand students.
These fears are only too common.
New, unknown situations can be frightening – and as TCKs, we experience them all the time.
But there is comfort.
I remember that morning, on the first day of school, I stumbled upon the following verses in my devotions:
“But you, Israel, my servant, Jacob, whom I have chosen, the offspring of Abraham, my friend; you whom I took from the ends of the earth and called from its farthest corners, saying to you: ‘You are my servant, I have chosen you and not cast you off’; fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
(Isaiah 41:8-10, ESV)
Did/do you experience fear of the unknown ahead of you?
How did/do you deal with it?
[31 Days] Day 8 Say
It’s Day 8 of the 31 Days in the Life of a TCK series! Welcome! You can find more info on the series here.
Today, someone else has a say on the blog. I am happy to introduce Johann Dürr to you, who I met at one of our TCK camps. He’s a TCK who grew up in Kazachstan and now is in Germany for his apprenticeship. I hope you enjoy his powerful words!
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My brown eyes betray nothing
My average height (2,04m), my standard clothing –
Why you can’t help but think
I’m one of you
“Hello, how are you?” You say
“Hi, I’m fine.”
The culturally appropriate answer exits me effortlessly.
The conversation ensues
We both play along,
Content in the safe zone of small talk.
Then you ask
“Where are you from? I haven’t seen you around here before.”
I fake a smile and shift my weight,
Ever so slightly
I search your eyes
For only a second
And wonder
Do you really want to know?
I want to tell you everything,
But Experience has taught me
That in all likelihood
I will not fit in your box.
You see, by the age of 17
I’d lived in 5 countries.
My mom and dad
Raised me primarily in Kasachstan
Until I turned 13.
Then we moved to Germany for one year,
where the first time in my life
I was in a real school.
(before and after that only Homeschool)
After that we moved back to Central Asia…
At 18 I rented and ran
My first apartment
In Germany.
You see, by the age of 18
I’ve been to at least 17 countries
(Airports don’t count)
And moved 6 times.
You see, I’m from nowhere
Yet all the places I’ve been,
Cultures I’ve experienced,
And relationships I’ve built
Have made me into who I am today.
You see, I’m at peace, finally.
I’ve given up the baffling concept of
an earthly home
For the assurance of a Heavenly one
That awaits me.
But the thing is, you don’t see.
Your box is your worldview,
Your cultural understanding that comes
From the single perspective you were raised in.
I want to help you see,
Help you break through the confines
Of your box
But I know it takes time.
So for now I say only
“I live in Stuttgart, Germany.”
And at this moment
That is the truth.
adapted from the original by Breanna Thomas (the MK book)
thisiskatha.com 