I loved last night. Windows open, ceiling fan spinning, dusk just ending and the sky falling dark from a sapphire blue. I, sitting cross-legged on the floor, laptop in front of me, pecking away while watching a movie on TV, took delight in Linsay, my friend and future sister, who was sitting beside me, squealing in laughter at the movie. A Pizza Hut pepperoni and mushroom pizza was for supper. We had ice cream for dessert, and we talked and laughed and squealed and reminisced all night long. I loved last night.
I remember three years ago from last night I was bawling my eyes out. I was crying two years ago from last night too. I guess I don't remember what I was doing a year ago, but I know it wasn't as good as this year.
July 28, 2003, I moved to the community that would become my home for what is now two years and going. I didn't know a single person here. I was starting my first year of teaching, terribly lacking confidence and even doubting if I was in God's will in taking this position and making this move. I had a bed, a chest of drawers, a table with two chairs, a computer, and a tv. The mattress had been soaked by rain during the move, so I spent the first night clinging to the dry edge of it. I was so frightened that first night too. I remember locking the door, then locking my bedroom door, and laying awake listening for any sound that could speak danger to my life. I remember sitting on the floor in my near empty living room, just crying and crying and crying. I felt so alone. All day long, the words "You are alone, you are alone, you are alone," cycled through my head. I had not yet learned to say no to those words.
I felt alone, but I was not alone. And I'm not just saying that God was with me, although He was and it is because of His grace and to His glory that I found such joy in last night. But I mean I was not void of human relationships. They weren't right there, but there were people who loved me, were thinking of me, and were praying for me. And, although I did not know them yet, there was a Christian community here, willing and eager to help me as soon as they knew me. Because of pride and fear and timidity I shyed away from such help, choosing to retreat inside of myself instead of risking the rejection coming with relationships. I felt alone, and though that was a legitimate, reasonable emotion rooted in hurts and wounds that were real and needed to be addressed and not ignored or denied, the reality was I was not alone.
Beth Moore once pointed out that David, in his cries of loneliness and hopelessness while running from Saul, was not without ally. Of course, God was with him, and God was his comfort, but, David's father and brothers were still rooting for him. David was not completely abandoned. There were people who cared very much for his well-being. The emotions were real, and David had every reason to feel the way he did, but I'm sure he gave thanks later for those people who loved him.
I am so thankful for the people who have been with me when I felt so alone. I'm so glad for those people who stuck with me, not offended that I was little comforted by their warm words, not giving up when their presence made little difference to me.
And, I am so thankful to God in making this lonely place home. Two years after I sat in an empty apartment crying, Linsay and I laughed in a cozy room, I being so happy I could offer some hospitality to a friend who never left. And, I am so happy I can go up to school and talk and laugh with those who have become my new friends. Loneliness is still a real emotion, but at least it is no longer combined with hopelessness and a perception that I am utterly alone. That is God's grace.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
marvel
Recently my friend Tammy wrote about how, even throughout the changes of life, so many of our quirks, interests, and mannerisms stay the same. And I think it is true. Crackers, bread, and milk are still perfectly acceptable for lunch for me. I still tend to procrastinate. I still stay in my car after I park if a good song is on the radio. People still tend to think I'm quiet and good for the first year they know me, and then they think I'm "quite a card," (I'm not really sure what that means, but it's been said) after that.
However, it also makes me think how I have changed. For instance, I now prefer Coke over Pepsi. I take my vitamins almost every day. If I still have work to do and I'm tired, I'll go to bed - it's just not worth hurting myself anymore. (I know, Tammy - you'll believe it when you see it). Besides, if I don't get enough sleep, the kids get a very cranky Miss Swigart, and nobody likes a cranky Miss Swigart. I'm not quite the academic or career perfectionist. I get excited and jump around the room and make a complete fool of myself in front of my students, something that I never could have done a few years ago.
But really, I'm not quite the perfectionist I once was. That is huge; nausea has declined, hours of sleep have increased, weekends have become a little more enjoyable, and I have become more content in the present. I appreciate beauty more. I'm still pretty cheap, but I'm much more likely to pay a little more for something that is pretty and practical rather than just practical. I delight in floral tablecloths and delicate bracelets. Those extra details that seemed superfluous and even frivolous are worthwhile now.
I used to stay put more. Now, I'm driving all over the place. I know I'm putting miles on my car, but if I'm not going to use my car to visit treasured friends, why have it?
My friends have changed too. Melissa D. has become one of the strongest and most content single women I know. Kristin faces her trials with a calm, steadfast spirit that absolutely amazes me. Melissa W.'s passions have shifted whole-heartedly to adult ministry. When Kristen B. went back to school, she found herself loving her classes.
Yet, like Tammy, I delight in the things that stay the same as much as I get excited about how God is growing us all. Melissa's love for purple and prayer comforts me as much as it did when she lived in Cov. House. While Kristin still looks forward to chic-flicks, chocolate, and yuppie-puppy coffee, and Melissa still cherishes her family and Justin, Kristen B. and I still talk about our confusion of why we, though we are happy, still long for someone to shares our lives with.
Tammy has considered buying a pink and purple children's Bible. That floors me. However, I'm not surprised to know her love for the Lord would lead her to do it and that she would find humor in it while marveling at God all of the way. I hope that is one thing that will stay the same about all of us - that whatever unlikely situation we may be in - like if I, for instance, ever become a Mary Kay consultant or Melissa D., who hates throbbing music and heat and humidity, ends up ministering in the swamps of Florida while married to an alternative Christian rock musician - I hope that we will still marvel at God and laugh at ourselves.
However, it also makes me think how I have changed. For instance, I now prefer Coke over Pepsi. I take my vitamins almost every day. If I still have work to do and I'm tired, I'll go to bed - it's just not worth hurting myself anymore. (I know, Tammy - you'll believe it when you see it). Besides, if I don't get enough sleep, the kids get a very cranky Miss Swigart, and nobody likes a cranky Miss Swigart. I'm not quite the academic or career perfectionist. I get excited and jump around the room and make a complete fool of myself in front of my students, something that I never could have done a few years ago.
But really, I'm not quite the perfectionist I once was. That is huge; nausea has declined, hours of sleep have increased, weekends have become a little more enjoyable, and I have become more content in the present. I appreciate beauty more. I'm still pretty cheap, but I'm much more likely to pay a little more for something that is pretty and practical rather than just practical. I delight in floral tablecloths and delicate bracelets. Those extra details that seemed superfluous and even frivolous are worthwhile now.
I used to stay put more. Now, I'm driving all over the place. I know I'm putting miles on my car, but if I'm not going to use my car to visit treasured friends, why have it?
My friends have changed too. Melissa D. has become one of the strongest and most content single women I know. Kristin faces her trials with a calm, steadfast spirit that absolutely amazes me. Melissa W.'s passions have shifted whole-heartedly to adult ministry. When Kristen B. went back to school, she found herself loving her classes.
Yet, like Tammy, I delight in the things that stay the same as much as I get excited about how God is growing us all. Melissa's love for purple and prayer comforts me as much as it did when she lived in Cov. House. While Kristin still looks forward to chic-flicks, chocolate, and yuppie-puppy coffee, and Melissa still cherishes her family and Justin, Kristen B. and I still talk about our confusion of why we, though we are happy, still long for someone to shares our lives with.
Tammy has considered buying a pink and purple children's Bible. That floors me. However, I'm not surprised to know her love for the Lord would lead her to do it and that she would find humor in it while marveling at God all of the way. I hope that is one thing that will stay the same about all of us - that whatever unlikely situation we may be in - like if I, for instance, ever become a Mary Kay consultant or Melissa D., who hates throbbing music and heat and humidity, ends up ministering in the swamps of Florida while married to an alternative Christian rock musician - I hope that we will still marvel at God and laugh at ourselves.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
pleasing the parents
My parents are coming tomorrow, and I'm so excited! They haven't been to my place since last summer, and I can't wait for them to see the new things I've added, how I've added a decorative touch here and there, and the way I've arranged the gifts Mom has given me throughout my apartment. Also, they will be able to see my classroom (although it's in pretty sad shape right now), my teachers' lounge, the hallway I walk through at work every day, and the Dr. Pepper machine I frequent.
I'm twenty-five years old and haven't had a report card mailed to my parents since I was in high school. There are no more open house evenings or invite your parents to school days in my life. Yet, it is still important for me to show off where I spend my days to my family. It's important to me for them to see reflections of my work. Instead of good papers and report cards, I excitedly show my mom and dad good evaluation reports from my boss. My mom used to be proud of my clean room (I think that happened once when I was in sixth grade). Now I'm excited she will see vacuumed floors and dusted shelves. That pride that comes from making my parents proud is still a part of me. My parents love me unconditionally, of course. If I struggled at my job, had not vacuumed in six months, and had things still stacked in boxes around my apartment, my parents would still love me. I'm secure in their love. Still, I'm eager to make them proud.
(I hope my dad doesn't look in the shed outside!)
I'm twenty-five years old and haven't had a report card mailed to my parents since I was in high school. There are no more open house evenings or invite your parents to school days in my life. Yet, it is still important for me to show off where I spend my days to my family. It's important to me for them to see reflections of my work. Instead of good papers and report cards, I excitedly show my mom and dad good evaluation reports from my boss. My mom used to be proud of my clean room (I think that happened once when I was in sixth grade). Now I'm excited she will see vacuumed floors and dusted shelves. That pride that comes from making my parents proud is still a part of me. My parents love me unconditionally, of course. If I struggled at my job, had not vacuumed in six months, and had things still stacked in boxes around my apartment, my parents would still love me. I'm secure in their love. Still, I'm eager to make them proud.
(I hope my dad doesn't look in the shed outside!)
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
hesitant refusal
Recently I've been journaling about how much I miss home. Maybe it's because my grandpa died, or maybe it's because I reconnected with so many good friends this summer, and I would so much rather be 1-2 hours away from them rather than 3-5 hours away from them, but, regardless of the reason, I have begun to question why exactly I have chosen to be three hours away from my family and my closest friends. I'm tired of being away just for the sake of being away. Much of me just wants to be back home.
This morning, unexpectedly, I received a job offer to teach English in my old hometown, at the high school from which I graduated. The English teacher, my high school English teacher, resigned, and the principal, who was my high school chemistry teacher, offered me the job. I have the chance to go back home, to be surrounded by the people who love me the most, and to once again be in the midst of people who know me, not just superficially, but deeply, and who love me very much. I would be close to Bloomington/Normal, small cities which I love, close to my Grandma and my Aunt Sara, not too far away from Melissa and Melissa, closer to Matt and Kristi, closer to Kristen Browning, and closer to Liz Morriss. I would be back at a church where I actually feel known.
Yet, I don't think I can accept this offer. I miss home, but I have ongoing relationships here too. I love the faculty and staff at WHS, and leaving them this quickly would break my heart. I know I don't have an extremely deep relationship with the staff there; I haven't seen any of them except for during professional development activities during the summer, but they have helped me so much through my days at work, and part of me just can't stomach working without them. What's more, I have invested work for this coming school year, and I would have to leave all that behind. It would be like the past two years of my life suddenly came to an abrupt halt, and the tapestry, the painting, the chapter, or whatever cliche' metaphor you want to insert would be incomplete, half-finished, and only inspiring confusion and discomfort.
As much as I yearn for home, I know it's good for me to forge some relationships on my own. Yes, I feel lonely and isolated some of the time, but it has forced me to speak to strangers, reach out to people I barely know, and risk rejection on a level beyond which is not possible in a town where everyone knew my name, my parents' names, my grandparents' names, and my great-grandparents' names. I've had to do so many things for myself, including estabilshing my own reputation, good or bad. At the end of the day, I knew I was the only one really interested in what had happened to me throughout that twelve hours, and I think that is still the part that hurts the most, but at the same time it has helped me appreciate the importance of relationships, and will help me to cherish my relationships in the future.
I still have responsibilities here in Waterloo. Here is where I need to stay. Maybe opportunities we have to turn down are answers to prayer. I long so much to be close to home, but, when I have the chance, I see more reason to stay down here. There are so many people I long to be near, but I understand that there are relationships here that should not be broken off so quickly. I know I would be a great teacher there, but I have responsibilities to be a great teacher here. God still wants me here, and, strangely, I think I still want to be here too. I miss all of you in the CBS Channel 3 viewing area though. I miss you in Chicagoland too. I'll still be here in St. Louis. Write me sometime.
This morning, unexpectedly, I received a job offer to teach English in my old hometown, at the high school from which I graduated. The English teacher, my high school English teacher, resigned, and the principal, who was my high school chemistry teacher, offered me the job. I have the chance to go back home, to be surrounded by the people who love me the most, and to once again be in the midst of people who know me, not just superficially, but deeply, and who love me very much. I would be close to Bloomington/Normal, small cities which I love, close to my Grandma and my Aunt Sara, not too far away from Melissa and Melissa, closer to Matt and Kristi, closer to Kristen Browning, and closer to Liz Morriss. I would be back at a church where I actually feel known.
Yet, I don't think I can accept this offer. I miss home, but I have ongoing relationships here too. I love the faculty and staff at WHS, and leaving them this quickly would break my heart. I know I don't have an extremely deep relationship with the staff there; I haven't seen any of them except for during professional development activities during the summer, but they have helped me so much through my days at work, and part of me just can't stomach working without them. What's more, I have invested work for this coming school year, and I would have to leave all that behind. It would be like the past two years of my life suddenly came to an abrupt halt, and the tapestry, the painting, the chapter, or whatever cliche' metaphor you want to insert would be incomplete, half-finished, and only inspiring confusion and discomfort.
As much as I yearn for home, I know it's good for me to forge some relationships on my own. Yes, I feel lonely and isolated some of the time, but it has forced me to speak to strangers, reach out to people I barely know, and risk rejection on a level beyond which is not possible in a town where everyone knew my name, my parents' names, my grandparents' names, and my great-grandparents' names. I've had to do so many things for myself, including estabilshing my own reputation, good or bad. At the end of the day, I knew I was the only one really interested in what had happened to me throughout that twelve hours, and I think that is still the part that hurts the most, but at the same time it has helped me appreciate the importance of relationships, and will help me to cherish my relationships in the future.
I still have responsibilities here in Waterloo. Here is where I need to stay. Maybe opportunities we have to turn down are answers to prayer. I long so much to be close to home, but, when I have the chance, I see more reason to stay down here. There are so many people I long to be near, but I understand that there are relationships here that should not be broken off so quickly. I know I would be a great teacher there, but I have responsibilities to be a great teacher here. God still wants me here, and, strangely, I think I still want to be here too. I miss all of you in the CBS Channel 3 viewing area though. I miss you in Chicagoland too. I'll still be here in St. Louis. Write me sometime.
Johnny Depp
I just want everyone to know that the first Charlie and the Chocolate Factory freaked me out, and the second one looks absolutely terrifying. I think there is something wrong with enjoying seeing an overweight kid being squeezed through a pipe, and I hypothesize that thousands of twenty and thiry-somethings have clausterphobia issues because of that very scene.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
mental webs
Sigh...
I've spun a mental web so complicated that it is I who is trapped and needs rescuing.
I don't know how long to keep teaching. I love my job, my workplace, and my colleagues. Even more than the people in my church small group, my coworkers have become a source of encouragement and laughter for me. Yet, there's something inside of me that whispers that this isn't quite it, that teaching high school isn't the best match for my gifts and abilities. I have longed to do ministry ever since my sophomore year in college. That desire has taken many forms and has manifested itself in various dreams, but, in the past, when I thought of that one thing that I most wanted to do but was most scared to even try, I thought of vocational ministry. So I didn't pursue it and kept it to myself, yet the desire never completely went away.
I love teaching, but as I read the Bible, I often long to teach scripture, which of course is not possible in public school. Last April, I believed God was nudging me to make more time for ministry in Christ's name. I debated in my mind wondering if I needed to make more time avocationally, or if I should get a ministry degree. As it is, I don't know how I can make significant time avocationally and still perform my job duties well. But, the thought of seminary absolutely terrifies me. For one thing, I am scared of the "Christian bubble." I don't want to be surrounded by all Christians all of the time. I like working in a secular workplace. The other thing is that I just have this vague dread of seminary. I don't know what it is. I know I am smart and can intellectually wrangle with the best of them. I love studying scripture. But the thought of seminary full time doesn't sit well with me. However, I want to do vocational ministry. I don't really care if I get a seminary degree or not, but I fear it is what will be required of me to do what I want to do.
I feel like there's a missing piece to this puzzle. I am tempted to wait for it to appear, but what if taking the plunge is what is really required of me at this point?
Any wisdom would be great appreciated.
I've spun a mental web so complicated that it is I who is trapped and needs rescuing.
I don't know how long to keep teaching. I love my job, my workplace, and my colleagues. Even more than the people in my church small group, my coworkers have become a source of encouragement and laughter for me. Yet, there's something inside of me that whispers that this isn't quite it, that teaching high school isn't the best match for my gifts and abilities. I have longed to do ministry ever since my sophomore year in college. That desire has taken many forms and has manifested itself in various dreams, but, in the past, when I thought of that one thing that I most wanted to do but was most scared to even try, I thought of vocational ministry. So I didn't pursue it and kept it to myself, yet the desire never completely went away.
I love teaching, but as I read the Bible, I often long to teach scripture, which of course is not possible in public school. Last April, I believed God was nudging me to make more time for ministry in Christ's name. I debated in my mind wondering if I needed to make more time avocationally, or if I should get a ministry degree. As it is, I don't know how I can make significant time avocationally and still perform my job duties well. But, the thought of seminary absolutely terrifies me. For one thing, I am scared of the "Christian bubble." I don't want to be surrounded by all Christians all of the time. I like working in a secular workplace. The other thing is that I just have this vague dread of seminary. I don't know what it is. I know I am smart and can intellectually wrangle with the best of them. I love studying scripture. But the thought of seminary full time doesn't sit well with me. However, I want to do vocational ministry. I don't really care if I get a seminary degree or not, but I fear it is what will be required of me to do what I want to do.
I feel like there's a missing piece to this puzzle. I am tempted to wait for it to appear, but what if taking the plunge is what is really required of me at this point?
Any wisdom would be great appreciated.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
July 19
July 19. Okay, is it anybody's birthday? Becky, I know yours was the 16th, so that's not it. Why do I feel this date is important for some reason? I think it may have been the birthday of a girl who was in my first family group, led by Jen Fulkerson, over the book of James. I can picture her but I can't remember her name. Amanda? I don't know. If it is anybody's birthday or anniversary, let me know. And if I'm supposed to be at anybody's house celebrating anything, let me know and save me a piece of cake.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Dear Becky and friends,
Remember when we used to talk on the phone for hours about all of the places we wanted to see? I remember Maine being pretty high on the list. I haven't make it there yet, have you? Remember how we used to talk about Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, delighting in the verses and passages we had just discovered? We together had such a love for beauty and for romance, even the romance of dancing colors or captivating song. We had big dreams for each other - huge dreams. They didn't involve prestige or accomplishment, but they did involve experiences that were deep and rich. We didn't long for trophies, we longed for stories. How is your story coming along? Are you giving it a chance? Are you lingering in a moment long enough to let the colors sink in and the melody haunt you?
You're in Turkey now; I'm close to St. Louis. You are a wife and mother of two, bringing love, comfort, and stability to your family. You are a military wife living in gentleness and strength. You fight your battles, but you also accept unfortunate circumstances with grace. You are raising two children away from your own family and the places that watched you grow up. You are a supporter, encourager, comforter, lover, teacher, entrepreneur, healer, and disciplinarian.
As for me, I am a single career woman, an educator, a mentor, and a friend. I'm living on my own, often wondering what it would be like to have a husband and children. I often long for someone to be there with me in the evenings, someone who at the end of the day cared about what I was thinking and feeling. I want someone to unconditionally love me when the busyness of the day has passed so that I don't have to carry every sting and arrow to bed with me that night. I desire someone to love, someone to cherish, someone to care for. I wonder what it would be like to have someone who has committed to stay by my side as long as we both shall live. I wonder what it would be like to have the well-being of two precious little lives entrusted into my care. I wonder what it would be like to have someone looking forward to coming home to me.
But I wonder if you wonder about me. Do you wonder what it might be like to be twenty-five and single, not even a boyfriend, not even a dog, and certainly no consideration of children? Do you wonder what it might be like to only consider yourself as you think about the future? Do you wonder what it might be like to do absolutely anything you want with your weekend or to have the financial freedom of an unmarried person without kids?
I imagine you do think about those things from time to time, just as I imagine life in your shoes. You might long for more "me time," while I long for the blessing of having a companion. You might wonder how in the world your life got so complicated; I, with all of the freedom in the world, worry about making a misstep, and having no one there to even miss me, let alone rescue me. Yet, I think God knows what He is doing as He leads us on in life. God is my refuge after all; He will never leave me alone and forgotten on the dark side of the Earth somewhere. And, in the mist of the military, money, and the terrible twos, God is able to quiet your heart and give you as strong a sense of self as that of any single woman. And, I am learning more and more, that whether God gave us a husband or singleness, kids or a career, Turkey or St. Louis, they are just that - gifts from God.
I miss you, Becky. I miss you, friends. How is your story coming along? Are the experiences rich and deep? Are they full of color and haunting melody? Are you wishing for another plot line? Well, I have another plot line, but I don't think you want it. I'm not sure the melody I have would go with your harmony, and vice versa. We better just drink deep of the riches we have. Wow, the fireflies seem climb on the thick Illinois air. And, wow, I wonder which road I will choose next year. It's amazing how the light catches the highlights in your daughter's hair. And aren't the notes of your children's laughter intoxicating?
The rest of you, how are your stories coming along? Are they full of trophies or of experiences? What are the colors and shades of your stories, and do you think you could describe some of your melodies to me?
You're in Turkey now; I'm close to St. Louis. You are a wife and mother of two, bringing love, comfort, and stability to your family. You are a military wife living in gentleness and strength. You fight your battles, but you also accept unfortunate circumstances with grace. You are raising two children away from your own family and the places that watched you grow up. You are a supporter, encourager, comforter, lover, teacher, entrepreneur, healer, and disciplinarian.
As for me, I am a single career woman, an educator, a mentor, and a friend. I'm living on my own, often wondering what it would be like to have a husband and children. I often long for someone to be there with me in the evenings, someone who at the end of the day cared about what I was thinking and feeling. I want someone to unconditionally love me when the busyness of the day has passed so that I don't have to carry every sting and arrow to bed with me that night. I desire someone to love, someone to cherish, someone to care for. I wonder what it would be like to have someone who has committed to stay by my side as long as we both shall live. I wonder what it would be like to have the well-being of two precious little lives entrusted into my care. I wonder what it would be like to have someone looking forward to coming home to me.
But I wonder if you wonder about me. Do you wonder what it might be like to be twenty-five and single, not even a boyfriend, not even a dog, and certainly no consideration of children? Do you wonder what it might be like to only consider yourself as you think about the future? Do you wonder what it might be like to do absolutely anything you want with your weekend or to have the financial freedom of an unmarried person without kids?
I imagine you do think about those things from time to time, just as I imagine life in your shoes. You might long for more "me time," while I long for the blessing of having a companion. You might wonder how in the world your life got so complicated; I, with all of the freedom in the world, worry about making a misstep, and having no one there to even miss me, let alone rescue me. Yet, I think God knows what He is doing as He leads us on in life. God is my refuge after all; He will never leave me alone and forgotten on the dark side of the Earth somewhere. And, in the mist of the military, money, and the terrible twos, God is able to quiet your heart and give you as strong a sense of self as that of any single woman. And, I am learning more and more, that whether God gave us a husband or singleness, kids or a career, Turkey or St. Louis, they are just that - gifts from God.
I miss you, Becky. I miss you, friends. How is your story coming along? Are the experiences rich and deep? Are they full of color and haunting melody? Are you wishing for another plot line? Well, I have another plot line, but I don't think you want it. I'm not sure the melody I have would go with your harmony, and vice versa. We better just drink deep of the riches we have. Wow, the fireflies seem climb on the thick Illinois air. And, wow, I wonder which road I will choose next year. It's amazing how the light catches the highlights in your daughter's hair. And aren't the notes of your children's laughter intoxicating?
The rest of you, how are your stories coming along? Are they full of trophies or of experiences? What are the colors and shades of your stories, and do you think you could describe some of your melodies to me?
Thursday, July 14, 2005
home
It's amazing how travel can lead to such an appreciation of home. For instance, after traveling to Germany, I am filled with thankfulness that God has not yet called me to a place where I would have to eat herring on a regular basis. I know, like Paul, through Christ I could learn to be content in all situations, but the herring thing would be really, really hard.
Germany was a wonderful experience though. The herring was about the only thing I couldn't stomach. I learned to like sparkling water (or "water with gas" as they call it), butter on my lunchmeat sandwiches, and pedal brakes on adult bicycles. I found that I can watch movies in a foreign language and still enjoy them and learn from them. A live performace of Romeo and Juliet is just as heartbreaking in German as it is in English. I learned I need to recycle more and ride my bike to work more.
But there is no place like home. I learned to like butter on lunchmeat, but I still prefer mayo. I learned to like sparkling water, but I still prefer it "without the gas." And, looking back on my anxiousness to return home, I think of all of the time I spent with international students in college and wonder why it never occured to me to try, even in small ways, to make things more like their homes. It was so refreshing to land in Memphis and be able to read the signs posted around me and to walk up to a shop counter with confidence that the person on the other side would speak English. To be able to easily understand what was going on around me. To easily be able to find and purchase food I like prepared the way I prefer it. In college, I think I was so busy trying to introduce my international friends to my culture, I never really appreciated how much they must have longed for home. Oh sure, I would sit and listen as they talked about home and made a conscious effort to learn from them, but I never really tried and thought about bringing their homes to them.
I love home. I remember upon returning from Scotland a few years ago, Kristen Browning and I shouting and screaming and skipping and turning around in circles in a McDonald's parking lot because we were in America and we could act as silly as we wanted. We no longer had to be on our best behavior because we were in someone else's country, we no longer had to sit and observe just to figure out what was going on (even though we spoke the same language there), we were no longer visitors in a foreign place. I love home because of the sense of comfort, the sense of belonging, the sense of ownership. I wish I could go back in time and try to give that to my international friends. Nothing I could do would make this foreign land home, but maybe at least that understanding would have helped bridge the chasm between the international students and the American students. Maybe I could have shared just a taste of what different students from different countries already shared so deeply in being strangers in a foreign land.
Germany was a wonderful experience though. The herring was about the only thing I couldn't stomach. I learned to like sparkling water (or "water with gas" as they call it), butter on my lunchmeat sandwiches, and pedal brakes on adult bicycles. I found that I can watch movies in a foreign language and still enjoy them and learn from them. A live performace of Romeo and Juliet is just as heartbreaking in German as it is in English. I learned I need to recycle more and ride my bike to work more.
But there is no place like home. I learned to like butter on lunchmeat, but I still prefer mayo. I learned to like sparkling water, but I still prefer it "without the gas." And, looking back on my anxiousness to return home, I think of all of the time I spent with international students in college and wonder why it never occured to me to try, even in small ways, to make things more like their homes. It was so refreshing to land in Memphis and be able to read the signs posted around me and to walk up to a shop counter with confidence that the person on the other side would speak English. To be able to easily understand what was going on around me. To easily be able to find and purchase food I like prepared the way I prefer it. In college, I think I was so busy trying to introduce my international friends to my culture, I never really appreciated how much they must have longed for home. Oh sure, I would sit and listen as they talked about home and made a conscious effort to learn from them, but I never really tried and thought about bringing their homes to them.
I love home. I remember upon returning from Scotland a few years ago, Kristen Browning and I shouting and screaming and skipping and turning around in circles in a McDonald's parking lot because we were in America and we could act as silly as we wanted. We no longer had to be on our best behavior because we were in someone else's country, we no longer had to sit and observe just to figure out what was going on (even though we spoke the same language there), we were no longer visitors in a foreign place. I love home because of the sense of comfort, the sense of belonging, the sense of ownership. I wish I could go back in time and try to give that to my international friends. Nothing I could do would make this foreign land home, but maybe at least that understanding would have helped bridge the chasm between the international students and the American students. Maybe I could have shared just a taste of what different students from different countries already shared so deeply in being strangers in a foreign land.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Greetings from Deustchland!
Hello Everyone!
I just want you to know that I'm here and doing well. The kids are great and I am enjoying the lavish hospitality and grace of the host family with whom I am staying right now. I miss the friends and family from home, though. I wish you could be here with me. Love you!
I just want you to know that I'm here and doing well. The kids are great and I am enjoying the lavish hospitality and grace of the host family with whom I am staying right now. I miss the friends and family from home, though. I wish you could be here with me. Love you!
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