I attended a transitioning seminar at the school this
morning. Though I was happy to
hear that we have been doing the “right” things for our children to make the transition more seamless, it seemed to
stir up a host of emotions that I had successfully repressed for the last few
months. At one point, someone
reminded us to “separate carefully and respectfully.” I wholeheartedly agree with this advice and have been very
cognizant during this move in particular to do just that. Here’s what it means…when you
transition, it’s not abnormal to begin to disconnect. In fact, sometimes to completely withdraw. However, it can also sometimes
disintegrate into outlining all of the things you hate about the place you are
leaving. It’s not uncommon and in
fact, allows you to emotionally move along. It allows you to numb some of the pain that you are feeling
during the separation by saying, “I’m so glad to get away from (fill in the
blank).” It’s a release. But, it’s damaging. It’s damaging to the people you leave
behind and it is damaging to us because we leave a lasting impression of
negativity. Sometimes we carry
that into our next place by talking excessively about the stuff we were so
happy to be done with. It infuses
doubt into the minds of our new friends about what we might say about THEM when
we leave them behind next. I know this because I’ve lived it. It is HARD not to do it. Friends - hold me accountable.
This made me stop and think about what I AM leaving
behind. What will I miss? And where I am going. One would think that this process would
become easier. It doesn’t. This is
about our 10th move…our 8th international move. We have most of the nuts and bolts
figured out, but the emotions keep returning. I confess I had to think hard about what I would miss about
Romania. (I’m in the separation phase.)
I figured it out. It’s the
people. I love the friends I’ve
made here…American, Romanian, British, Dutch, Canadian and it goes on and
on. I love the church we have
helped build here. There are no
words to describe that process or that group of folks with whom I’ve
worshipped, cried, laughed, and mourned with...they are forever going to be in my heart and on my
mind. It’s the weather. We have all 4 seasons, and they are
beautiful. The food. This is a place where I found healing
in my own physical body. It’s a
place where, through that food journey, I have honored my own father’s life and
death. It’s where my
children have blossomed. They have
matured and grown into beautiful young people. I am so proud of them all. I have had my sisters and mother and mother-in-law and friends visit us here,
we have traveled and seen interesting things, and we have come together here as
a family. There’s so much to
miss.
And now, my heart must move on. I’ll treasure up all of these things
with me on my journey. They won’t
be far from my thoughts.
However, this is an unusual move for us. The children and I will go to my hometown in Louisiana for a
year and my husband will spend the next year in Baghdad. This is like no other move we have ever
made. There is such joy in knowing
that I am going home. But it won’t
be the same. It will be wonderful
to sit and have coffee with my sisters and mom and friends…but I’ll be alone. We will get to be present for all of
the family birthday parties and holiday celebrations in the coming year. But I will be alone. It sounds horrible and morose, but it’s
true. Learning to live with part of your heart across the ocean may be excruciating. And worse, I fear that
moving home will bring such a sigh of relief that I may never be able to leave
again. The first time was hard
enough! And yet, there’s nowhere
else that I want to go this time. Where is
home? (A special hats off to all of my military friends and Foreign Service families who have already walked in my shoes. I understand.)
We are nomads and this move has made me sit and reflect so
much on not only our earthly transitions, but on my spiritual home. We are never to feel like we are at home
in this world. We are but visitors
here, in a foreign land. Is this my new normal?
Despite all of the wonderful, lovely experiences my family
and I have had in Romania, I feel that I was never home. Will it feel that way when I return to
my country of origin? To my
“homeland?” Will my children feel
as if they have gone home? Will we all be forever strangers on this journey?
Time will tell.
My husband has already sent me the list of prospective
places that we can bid on for our next assignment abroad. We’ll have to bid in July. I keep filing it away. I look at it…and feel sadly overwhelmed. To think of going to a new place, when
I haven’t even vacated this one yet and am headed “home,” is just too much to
process. It is now that I
pray that quiet little prayer, “Lord, please prepare a place for us. Please open our hearts for this
journey. Please comfort us and
protect us. Please show us how we
can represent YOU in all that we say and do. Let us not grow weary. Give us strength to face the obstacles
that will surely come our way.
Give us patience, compassion, grace, and love - for each other and for those we encounter along the way. Amen.”
