Fitting In versus Belonging

I’ve been listening to an audiobook by Lauren Wells, the founder of TCK Training and Unstacking Company. She has multiple books; this one is called Raising up a Generation of Healthy Third Culture Kids and is targeting mainly parents or those who work with TCK’s. So, as both a TCK and someone working with TCK’s, I thought I might as well give it a read.

Wow, have I been humbled. I still have so much to learn. As I listened this weekend, she touched on the differences between “belonging” and “fitting in.” Informally, she asked some TCK’s how they see the difference. Some answers included the following two ideas:

• Fitting in can be done anywhere or with anyone, but belonging is only in some places or with some groups.

• I change my behaviors and words to fit in, but I’m free to be myself when I belong.

It might be easy to look at those and think, “Okay, I know where you’re going: fitting in = bad; belonging = good.” But, that’s not the case. Fitting in is absolutely necessary. It’s a survival skill, and it often benefits not just the TCK, but others as well. Friends have commented that I’m really good at navigating transportation whenever we visit a new place. Honestly, I think it’s just a survival skill I’ve picked up along the way: the reading of maps, watching others to see how to buy or validate tickets, the hyper-awareness of every stop, etc. Fitting in is about more than avoiding the stares, about joining the natural flow of pace. It’s often a validation of how things are done, an appreciation for the differences with a willingness to learn and adapt to them.

Belonging isn’t automatically better, but it is a layer beyond, deeper. It’s connected to identity. If fitting in is your way of validating the new place, belonging is when you yourself feel validated, accepted. To belong somewhere is to know how a certain place impacted who you are have become, even if it's merely one aspect of your personality or character. You get to taste the notion of putting down roots in a place, of finding yourself to be wanted. You're adding to the beauty, not just navigating the chaos. Here in Kandern, for instance, fitting in was subtly learning that the most acceptable time for putting out your garbage can is between 7:30 and 8:00pm the night before. Belonging was being told that our neighborhood was having an evening grill-out and that I got to pick the date to make sure I could be there.

Of course, there’s a sadness in knowing I won’t ever have a place where my roots go deep, where I’ll belong forever and happily spend all the rest of my days. And I’ve come to peace with that. It’s why so many TCK’s find their belonging in relationships rather than in geography anyway, why I believe in this transitory-permanent place we call BFA in which our students’ roots become tangled with each other for a season before flying off again. We witness a lot of fitting in and hopefully also some belonging, even if it's temporary. But we hold to the hope for that one day. One day fitting in and belonging will both come easily because we'll all be home. Forever.

the day my team accidentally all wore the same hoodie

Breath of 2024

 It's the last day of the year. I feel both pressured but also invited to reflect back on the highs and lows of 2024. For instance, what a privilege it was to ring in the new year on the other side of the globe amidst the craziness that is a Hawaiian New Year's Eve (iykyk). In March, I traveled to Uganda on undoubtedly the best short-term service project I've ever been on. The summer weeks in the states were full of connections, both new and renewed, and I capped off the summer with a unique experience by getting to attend some Olympic Games in Paris. That was a dream come true! New arrivals to Kandern have meant new friends, and I'm loving a second year of being Middle School Chaplain. My admiration for my small group girls and their growth this year has reached new levels. And the final icing on the cake was a visit from my Dad in December and a life-changing chapel, at least for one student.

On the sadder side, 2024 held some emotional good-byes as good friends departed for new adventures. Multiple flights left me stranded and delayed, and I spent a lot of the early months sick - including a food poisoning incident. I witnessed a couple of marriages fall apart and the loss of a beloved unborn baby. Sometimes the reality of living in a broken world is truly heart-breaking.

As I've reflected today, I also looked back at the Scriptures I was led to study this year, some my own choice and some out of necessity for my job, most on my own yet some in community. Here's a short list:
- the Psalms
- Leviticus
- Heaven and the Afterlife
- 1 Samuel
- 1&2 Peter
- the Tabernacle
- Christmas devotional from Grace Church Roseville

The Tabernacle and the Psalms study stand out as my delight this year. I picked up the Tabernacle study as part of our BFA theme of "dwell," and I chose to dive into the Psalms because I actually struggle to read them regularly. I confess that so much poetry at once always bores me. So my challenge this year was to either re-write them in my own words or turn them into prayers. If you'll indulge me, here's a sample of Psalm 146.

    Sing praise. Make much of Yahweh, our God!
        As long as you this being and live on earth, look to him.
    Rather than trusting any single son of man,
        hope in the Son of Man.
        His salvation will last beyond your breath.
    On the day your plans die, his take over.
        His help comes from the God of Jacob,
        who created all your see and are, even your breath.
    He will keep the faith forever.
        Only through him can you feed the poor and dispense justice to the oppressed.

    Yahweh, you open the blind eyes to see and life up the depressed to joy.
        You love those whom others overlook;
        you guard your pilgrim travelers.
    You reign forever, to all generations. 
        That's why I use this breath to praise.

Re-reading this one today reminded me that I have much to praise the Lord for when I look back on 2024. He was once again faithful and woke me up to life every single day. I pray that the breaths I took and spent pleased him on the whole, and I aim to use these lungs to point others to him faithfully in 2025.

What did your 2024 hold?

December Adventures with Old & New Friends

Thoughts on Generosity

I still remember her gap-toothed smile as she placed a hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stop all motion and be in the moment with her. “Are you a pilgrim?” she asked, but in Portuguese, so all I understood was “peregrino?” When I nodded, she reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out 2 oranges. With a sparkle in her eye, she proceeded to place them in my hands before reaching in for 2 more. I shook my head vehemently, partly because I didn’t want her to believe an old custom of blessing pilgrims in order to be blessed, but also because I don’t love oranges. Yet she refused to take them back and somehow piled on the 2 extra ones into my arms. In some words I couldn’t fully understand, I think she was telling me to pass them on to others as well. Finally I assented and placed them into my pack before turning to her to say “Obrigada” as many times as I could. She cupped her hands over her heart before placing them over mine in a tender gesture. Generosity.

Last week we learned about the uber generosity of a BFA alum who is gifting our school with a bridge loan at 0% interest so that we could purchase a new dorm building 6 months earlier than we thought we would. It’s an amount of generosity at a level I can only dream of, but it’s also no more or less real than the Portuguese farmer lady because the reality is that generosity can't be measured in the worth of the gift but in motivation of the heart. Jesus pointed that out with the widow’s mite.

It was American Thanksgiving on Thursday (we have to distinguish here between American, Canadian, and German), and while it was a normal workday for me - a long one, to boot - it’s still a marker to pause and acknowledge the wealth of gifts I live in every day. I mean, my salary literally comes from the generosity of many supporters. The next day, I was privileged to be a chaperone on the English 7 field trip to see a performance of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. One of the major themes in that play is of course the learning of gratitude and generosity, and it was fascinating to talk to a student about that afterwards. We both walked away wondering how our hearts could be softer from the start.

So, as November comes to a close, I’m asking the Lord to do that work, both in my heart and in the hearts of my students. I desire to both be incredibly intentional with my generosity this season as well as spontaneous and free.

 
Oranges and Christmas Carols

a Psalm of Gratitude

The MS play has come and gone. A two-month labor of love and tears and endurance reaches its pique in a 72-hour time frame in which adrenaline courses through all their tiny bodies and we perform 3 times for the community audiences. And it all went so much better than I expected at the 73-hour mark. The kids put their offering on the stage, and I’m so grateful that God was pleased to accept it and turn it into something beautiful. Here’s my Psalm 136-esque praise:

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever.

Give thanks to the God of gods and Lord of lords. His love endures forever.

To him who alone does great works. His love endures forever.

Who brought us through 3 performances of our show. His love endures forever.

Who helped us remember lines and props. His love endures forever.

Who allowed lights and sounds to work. His love endures forever.

Who gave us audiences that laughed and cried. His love endures forever.

Who blessed our meager offering on the stage. His love endures forever.

Who causes gratitude to well up in our hearts. His love endures forever.

Give thanks to the God of heaven for the success of the MS play. His love endures forever.

Pictures courtesy of BFA's Communications Department

Crying at the Sad Parts

It was only my second time attending play practice for the Middle School’s upcoming production, Anne of Green Gables. Since the announcement, I’ve been thrilled to be part of bringing to life this story that I’ve loved since I was 10. Anne is such an exciting character, and I know the movies almost by heart. I was dutifully sitting at the back of the auditorium with a spreadsheet open, entering props that I would be responsible for procuring over the next six weeks. With script in one hand and an eye on the stage to see if they made any air movements that might hint at a prop, I was struggling to get accurate notes since they were jumping around with scenes in Act 2, according to who was present that day.

That’s how we came to find ourselves suddenly near the end of the play, and as I watched Matthew open up the “air envelope,” I realized with a jolt, “I think he’s about to die.” Sure enough, a moment later the actor clutched his chest and rolled to the floor, and I discovered a lump in my throat. Being surrounded by Middle Schoolers, I quickly busied myself typing notes so that my eyes wouldn’t start leaking.

There have been some sad moments in the last month. Some close friends are carrying heavy stories, and while I count it a privilege to join in the burden-carrying, it's still sad. The news from places that matter to me aren't helping either, and I've been missing particular colleagues who departed this summer, but whose absence is just now being felt. Perhaps it's logical that the emotions were so quick to rise to the surface.

A mere 24 hours after practice, I decided to pop in the Anne of Green Gables movie and return to my childhood for a few hours. It was glorious having lines pop out of my mouth seconds before they were said on the screen, watching Anne find belonging and grow in relationships. Yet suddenly I was nearing Matthew’s death scene again, and I couldn’t say why, but I just knew I was going to cry. Not just tear up, ugly weep. I reached for the tissues, thinking to myself, “This is silly. I’ve seen this movie a hundred times, and I know how it’s going to end.” But (as I read somewhere recently) knowing the end of the story doesn’t mean you can’t cry at the sad parts.

So I did. I sobbed for two minutes until Matthew closed his eyes, Anne cradling his head, and the camera panned out for a glimpse of the pretty October scenery. I recovered quickly enough and enjoyed the rest of my evening, but I’ve been pondering since how to translate this truth to our students - that there’s value in not just skipping over the sad parts. That they don’t only hold beauty and truth of their own, but that they’re necessary to the story. In a few weeks, when our 14-year-old Matthew acts this out on stage for a watching world, will we catch a glimpse of the gospel story within?

"Ann(e) Shirley must learn to control her temper"

Dwell

Every year the Chaplains choose a theme that will guide our spiritual conversations and chapel talks for the first few weeks, and this year the theme is dwell. Our theme verse is John 1:14 "the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us," and I've been amazed at just how often I come across either "dwell" or "dwelling" in God's word, now that I'm looking for it. Take Psalm 84, for example, where being a doorkeeper in the dwelling place of God (v.1) is contrasted as far lovelier superior than dwelling in the tents of the wicked (v.10). Or how about Colossians 3:16, which prompts us to “let the word of Christ dwell in us richly.”

So far this year, in both HS and MS chapels, we've been seeking to craft a grand narrative for our students. It’s the story of our God, whose love so compels him to want to dwell with us, that he constantly pursues his people, desiring to come near. We see it in the Garden, in the wilderness through the Tabernacle, in the imagery of the prophets, and of course loudest of all in Jesus. I’m just emerging from a deep dive into Exodus and the Tabernacle, amazed that the New Testament would make the comparison from that beautiful and intricately designed structure to our own bodies (1 Corinthians 6). What a crazy idea that the God of the universe would send his Son so that we could be given new hearts (Ezekiel 36) so that he could then move in and dwell with us!?

Images from Spiritual Emphasis Week

Book-Loving

 

Summer reading plans are a thing, right? I might be the world’s slowest reader, so here’s a recap of some of my favorite books of the year, not just the summer:

Crying in H Mart, by Michelle Zauner
This one had been appearing on people’s reading lists for a couple of years now, so I was excited to have access to it via Amanda’s library card this summer. It’s a memoir written by an artist with a Korean mom and an American dad, and her journey back and forth between her parents’ two worlds while trying to shape her own. I didn’t love it. Maybe I’d been a little ruined because it was the second memoir this year by a Korean-American I’d read, but I preferred the first one (Happy Birthday or Whatever) for its honesty mixed with humility whereas I found Crying in H Mart to be a bit more of a self-absorbed retelling of events. 2/5 stars

Anne of Green Gables, Books 1-3, by L.M. Montgomery
I’m pretty sure I read the first one as a girl, maybe the second, but the third one (Anne of the Island) was definitely new to me. As the Middle School is getting ready to put on the play of Book 1 this fall, it was a wonderful refresher and so easy to read. 4/5 stars

The Things We Leave Behind, by Clare Furniss
This was a somewhat random purchase the last time I was in London. I am not usually drawn to young adult fiction, but one of the characters had the same unique name as one of my small group girls, and I saw it took place partly in Scotland. In the end, this barely dystopian novel, set in such a near future that I eerily saw how possible it could be, was really well written. Furniss dealt with the themes of grief and trauma in such a delicate way that I completely didn’t see the big twist coming, and yet the end, while sad, was distinctly hopeful. 5/5 stars

Gentle and Lowly, by Dane Ortlund
Honestly, I’d heard quite a few ravings about this book from people I trust, that I expected it to be riveting. Hardly. It took me the better part of 20 chapters to find my way into it, but then chapter 22 just blindsided me. This is one I plan to re-read again as soon as I can. 4.5/5 stars

Some new ones that I’m either tackling currently or about to very soon:

• Life on Other Planets (a memoir), by Aomawa Shields

• Practicing the Way, by John Mark Comer

• The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man, by Jonas Jonasson