I Long To Belong.

I long to feel like I belong.  To have a place where I fit in and I’m needed.  Switching countries or states is not an event that is conducive to that particular feeling.  Your roots are continually pulled out of the ground and replanted in multiple places.  It takes time to connect and go deep with people.  So the feeling of being needed seems rather scarce, honestly.

The thought that has been racing through my mind the past week is:  As a Christian I tend to search for my place of belonging in a ‘safe’ place…in a group of Believers like myself.  It often dives into an even smaller circle than that though.  We like to stick within our own people group or denomination.  There are definitely pros to that, but I also see a weakness in my life.

Growing up as an MK forced me to rely on other people.  There were people around us who were different, but we needed them because we weren’t surrounded by our own people.  It was hard.  It was also beneficial.  I learned so much from so many different people that I would have otherwise missed out on.

That takes me to my current thought process.

Here I am.  A Christian girl in a city in America.  I love culture and being around different people.  Currently I am trying to fight through transition.  It’s hard.  I never thought I would attend such a large Mennonite church.  That’s hard to swallow.  But God calls us to things that are different and even appear illogical to our humanistic ways at times.  In the past year I’ve felt like I was losing myself.  Like RaVonne was slowly disappearing and I didn’t know what to do with it.  The things I stood for, the ways I thought and the challenges I wanted to jump into were being sucked down the drain.  I wasn’t ok with that, but I didn’t know what to do with it.  Was there a way to actually stop it?

I found myself struggling to find a way to fit into the church we are currently a part of.  It hasn’t gone like I thought it might.  I mean, in a church of 250+ people, it’s easy to attend and then remove yourself from everything else.  I don’t feel like I fit or like I’m needed.  Sorry, that’s a little vulnerable to say, but that leads me to this point…

For me, as a Christian girl in America, I can tend to want to find my place of belonging at church.  I don’t think that’s wrong because we all need other Believers to walk with us through life.  But I do think that for me it’s wrong to look for my complete group of people there.  How am I ever going to share the Gospel without having relationships with the people who are searching for the Truth?  They long to be needed too.  If I go to them for advice on the culture I am learning or the language I can’t understand and they feel like I really want and need them in my life, we will develop a healthy relationship of giving and receiving.  No, it won’t always be easy, but the Christian life is not meant to be easy.

I find myself living in a little bubble and that scares me.  It’s been a year and half of living here and I can tell you the name of one of my neighbors. That’s ridiculous!  How dare I allow moving to America to change my lifestyle.  I can’t be satisfied with being in a little comfort box where the people around me look the same all the time.  The Word of God needs to be my daily source of life and challenge.  What I believe has got to be more than what my church is asking of me.  I have got to be asking the Lord to fill me daily with the Holy Spirit as I enter the world around me.

God didn’t call me to live in a little bubble or on an island above the world.  Jesus got involved.  He helped people but wasn’t their crutch for life.  He healed many, fed others, and spoke Truth while loving them deeply.  Am I committed to loving unconditionally?  That requires me to put other needs in front of mine.  Am I committed to saying “Here I am, Lord, use me,” when I have no idea what all it might cost?  If not, then I am not a follower of Him.  I’m just a fan in the crowd searching for benefits.

Jesus Christ means so much to me.  To be here for benefits seems rather disrespectful, selfish, and ignorant.  Am I willing to live a different life and accept the responsibilities that comes with the incredible gift of salvation?  If not, than what’s the point!?

This Is Me

Hey Guys,

This is me.  RaVonne Rhodes.

I was born in Northern Minnesota to a white, Mennonite couple.  So, yes.  I have a white, Mennonite face and convictions that fall under Mennonite standards.  So to all of you who are white Mennonites…I look just like you.

The hardest thing for me to swallow and even say to you is that I am a white, American, Mennonite girl.  As true as it all is, everything within me wants to be separated from that title.  Let me try to explain…

When I was six years old my family moved to a small island in the Caribbean.  I went to a school where all the students’ beautiful, dark skin made my skin look ever so pale.  My friends were my brothers and kids on our street.  I distinctly remember dreaming of the day I would live in a small village like the one we would go to for quality time with our friends or live in a big house on a point with a beautiful view of the ocean.  That island was home and I thought I would be there forever.

After four years on the small island, my family moved back to Minnesota for a year to reconnect a little before we moved to Asia.  I loved being close to my grandparents and cousins, but sometimes it was hard.  I missed all my Grenadian family and friends.

Sixteen months flew by and we were suddenly on a long flight to Thailand.  I hated it.  I didn’t want to move there, but that is where God was calling my family.

As I look back on those eleven years of my life, I see God working in my heart.  Thailand became home and Asia was a place I didn’t want to leave for good.  After school my brothers and I would play with other TCKs in our housing development or with our Thai neighbor.  When I turned fifteen, I got my motorcycle license.  Almost every day my brothers would pile on the back and we would drive to school.  I had to learn to balance weight on two wheels while at the same time not allow the moving of kids to wreck our ride.  Rice and spicy food.  Hours at the pool.  Multiple nationalities present at church every Sunday.  Learning a foreign language and finding ways to communicate.  It was all a part of every day life.  Every day I would find myself around people who looked nothing like me.  It wasn’t awkward or weird.  They would ask me why I cover my head and why I wear skirts all the time.  I struggled to know why and even to be ok with being different all the time, but as I grew older, I began to understand the Word of God and what He was asking of me.  I would learn from my Asian friends and find myself inspired to reach out to people around me.  They used what they had to worship God.  It spoke to me and changed my view of life.

Eleven years of being in Asia and four years of being in the Caribbean made me someone different than the culture I was born into.

I stepped onto American soil on December 13, 2017.  To a lot of people, it looked like I was coming home.  Pennsylvania hasn’t ever been home to me before, but it’s supposed to be now.  It’s hard.  Every day I find myself wondering what new cultural thing I will learn next.  Kinda weird, right?  But let’s look at it this way…

I feel at home in a church service with other cultures.  I feel more at home when I look different from everyone around me.  When the food is spicy and English isn’t the only language being spoken. 

As white as I may be and as Mennonite as I may look, I don’t understand American culture or Mennonite culture.  I’m learning.  Every day I find myself in awe of the way something works.  It’s just like it was when I first went to Asia.  Only here I speak the language and look like the people on the outside.

In the past year I’ve started a relationship with a guy from my church in PA.  It’s been incredible.  One of the brightest parts of moving to America, actually.  But it has come with challenges.  Our cultures are different.  We see things differently at times.  It’s hard for me to stay in one place for a long period of time and be content with it.  Thanksgiving is an interesting holiday.  Churches do odd things to figure out who is going to be on a committee or who will be the next pastor.  Sometimes church feels formal.

I’m grateful for people who have patience to explain things to me.  For people who ask about my life.  For people who allow me to do odd things because I don’t know what’s expected.

It’s hard.  Relationships are difficult.

But learning is a huge part of life.  Especially for a Christian.

If we are going to share the Gospel with the people around us, like we are commanded to do, then we need to learn the culture of the people we are reaching.  That's a given.  So learning should be second nature.

To all of you TCKs out there today, learn all you can.  Our lives are different and we don’t always feel understood, but we can learn from others.  We can learn about our birth culture or our nationality’s culture just like we learned to adapt to all those foreign cultures in the past.

The biggest thing I’ve learned in the past few weeks is to grieve the countless losses.

Cry about those things you miss.  Shed tears over the fact that it’s hard and it hurts.  Admit that it isn’t what you thought it would be or that people don’t get it.  Find someone who understands.  Let God take your pain and frustration, your losses and disappointments.  Once you’ve allowed Him to clean the wounds, He will be able to bring healing and restore.

It’s a journey that’s hard.  But let me tell you, EVER SO WORTH IT.

We’ve been given a valuable gift.  Be who you are RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE.  Learn all you can and pursue Jesus Christ with everything within you.  You’ll never regret it!

Sincerly,

A Third Culture Kid

Strategic Life Plan

My mind has been in a constant search for a strategic, life plan.  Not a plan that tells me what I’m doing for the next five to ten years, although that would be kinda cool; but a plan that keeps me on track without a derail every fifty miles.  I hear people talk about their prayer lives being so powerful for them.  There are people who share about their daily time with God that starts at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning and I’m over here thinking, “How do people keep going the rest of the day in a sane state of mind when they wake up that early on a daily basis?”

On a side note, I’m a night owl.  I have been for as long as I can remember.  I’m also someone who needs a solid night of sleep.  If I’m getting eight hours of sleep a night, that’s perfect.  Sure, I have those weeks where I run on four or five hours for about five days, but then I’m trashed for a while until I can get back up on my feet.  I’ll admit, I love mornings…when my sleep starts at 21:00 or 21:30, but to keep that as a daily routine…well, I guess I have a lot of things to work on in my life….

So, when I think about my relationship with God and the amount of time I spend with Him, I get a little sick feeling inside.  I know it’s not where it should be.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy that quality time with Him…reading His Word, praying, journaling…It’s all so refreshing and invigorating for me.

I’ve been hearing a lot of advice on this whole strategic, game plan for life recently and I’m convinced that it’s one of the wisest things we as Christians could do.  Will every strategy look the same?  Absolutely not because we are all different human beings with different weights, temptations, weaknesses, and thought processes.  So, I’ve been brain storming a game plan for my life.

Two weeks ago, I started teaching school again.  I love those high school kids so much.  The energy they have for life and the excitement they bring to my ‘normal’ days is just plain fun.  It’s also tiring at times and that’s why I’m struggling to find a good routine for these days of the week.  It always takes time to adjust to a different schedule and find a routine that works exceptionally well…I’m in that stage right now, but I’m also feeling like I’m failing my Spiritual life miserably.  Thus the continual search for a strategic, life plan.

Devotional time has always been one of my biggest weaknesses.  It bothers me that I can make time for a quick bite to eat before work, but I can’t fit some spiritual food in my schedule.  I should be able to go without physical food before I cut the spiritual filling from His Word.  Let’s also face the facts that I can spend fifteen minutes talking to someone, watching something, or scrolling social media before I go to bed without picking up my Bible to do something even more productive before those precious hours of shut eye.  How is that even just?

This summer I had a job about twenty minutes away from home.  I loved my drive to work because I could talk to God for a solid twenty minutes without an interruption.  (I even had less feelings of hate towards other drivers…I mean, how can you beat that?)  Now I’m back to driving a solid two minutes to school and I hardly have time to say, “Hey God, today I need some energy...”  So, my prayer life needs a little more scheduling these days cause going for a drive isn’t always the best financial way to spend one’s time.

When I say strategy, I don’t just mean scheduling a time for devotions and prayer…I’m also referring to the fact that I need to make a game plan for reading and praying.  This whole “average Christian life” thing is driving me nuts.  There’s no passion involved!  And to call ourselves Christians…I’m just not a fan in people separating radical Christianity from being a Christian.  Either you are a Christian or you aren’t.  If you are one, you’re radical because that’s what the saving grace of Jesus does to your life.  It turns it all upside down.  You aren’t afraid to worship on your knees in front of other people or with your hands raised. You take those three minutes to pray with a stranger in a coffee shop because you felt the Spirit prompting you to do so.  It doesn’t matter if it looks retarded.  You are different.  You aren’t made to fit into the cultural norm.  You love every person you meet because God made them with a story and a value we can’t fully understand.  The love you have for them will compel you to pray that the Father will spare their lives so they can experience His grace before it’s too late.  It’s a different lifestyle than what we are used to.

I’m preaching to myself because I have a lot to learn and grown in…Overcoming my natural tendency to want to please people with a loving boldness to do what the Father is leading me to do.  Looking the same as people around me and yet, not being afraid to live differently.  Our cultures scream, “Blend in.”  While at the same time they raise up people who are different in some areas of life.

I had this thought the other day while I was driving, so I wrote it on my gas receipt.

“I want my life to make other people question their relationship with God in the aspect that He means so much to me that they question whether or not He means that much to them.”

It comes from a quote I read somewhere along the line…but as a Christian, isn’t that how it should be?  I’m convinced it’s attainable.  I’ve been with people who have made me feel a little bit uncomfortable because I knew my relationship with God isn’t where it should be.  It wasn’t that they were degrading or lifting themselves up, they were just living their normal, every day lives…sharing the love of Jesus through conversations with strangers in gas stations, taking the plunge into deep, personal, honest conversations in a blink of an eye, and worshipping God anywhere at any time.  Talk about a challenging person. 

I really believe that the only way the world is going to be reached is through our everyday lives being different and visible to everyone around us.

Do I have a plan that is pushing me to do that?  Is what I’m reading going past my eyes and to my heart?  Or is it just a daily ritual to make me feel better about myself?  Is my prayer life existent?  Is it an actual conversation with the Creator of the entire universe?  Or is it a bunch of quick, desperate requests about my packed schedule?  Does my weekly schedule have time to just sit and breathe a little?  Is that time a priority and is that time spent in a beneficial way?  What am I doing to keep everything in its rightful place?  How many questions am I going to keep asking myself??

I’m currently working on coming up with a solid game plan, but I believe that the family of Believers is here to help each other out.  So, if you are one of those people with a game plan, I ask you to share some of your wisdom with me…Maybe it’s things that haven’t work.  Maybe it’s things that have been super beneficial.  Maybe you’ve never heard of a Believer’s strategic, game plan for life, but you have some ideas that might work…Hey, I’m willing to see if they work. 😊 There’s nothing like learning from each other and I’m a fan of learning from other people’s experiences.

Here’s to this week taking my relationship with Him deeper.  I’ll be honest, I am scared to say that sometimes because I’ve prayed that God will take me deeper with Him and then I find myself in some deep waters trying to swim to the top just for a breath.  The thing is, I never look back on those times and say, “I wish that wouldn’t have happened.”  The only way I’m really going to go deeper with Him is by completely abandoning my life, dreams, and ideas.  It really changes everything. 

"I'm Thankful for the Scars"

"The entirety of your life is made up of two percentages.  Ten percent is what happens to you.  Ninety percent is how you react to what happens."

Literally read that quote ten times because it's so true and what I need right now.

I don't know what you perceive my life to be...Social media has changed a lot of things for all of us and one of those being the way we view other people...but let me speak straight with you for a second...

In case you think my life has been a beautiful bouquet of roses and other beautiful flowers, is it OK if I remind you that there are thorns on those roses too?  The bouquet isn't just colorful flowers.

These days are hard.  Experienced people say it will be this way for several years...
"Give yourself grace." 

My internal calendar has been telling me to board a plane and go home because it's been three months in America.  I absolutely LOVE snow.  Always have.  I expect to always love it in the future.  (You all know that.)  But the past few days have me dreaming of sunny days with blue skies in Asian cities.  Eating spicy food from vendors, asking for directions with signs and wonders, smelling all sorts of interesting scents, and taking in all the beautiful scenery...

It's not that I want summer to come...I just want my life back.  I want it to be the way it normally was.  If I can't go home, I at least want to sit on a plane again...because that feels right.  It's normal and has been for as long as I can remember...

But now we are here.  In America.  As much as I hate to admit it, we have a house here and it's supposed to be home.  But it's not.  The people here are different.  They eat differently, talk differently, drive differently, and see life differently.  The culture is different.  I haven't figured it all out yet...Some people think I should fit in because of the way I look, but I don't.  In fact, there are times when I wish I understood what's going on so I wouldn't look so stupid.  At home, if I looked stupid, it was OK...because everyone knew I was different.

I guess different is the most common thing these days...maybe that's what normal looks like..?  I'm not sure, though...

But as I picked up my book tonight and read this quote...
"The entirety of your life is made up of two percentages.  Ten percent is what happens to you.  Ninety percent is how you react to what happens."
...I knew that ninety percent needs to be adjusted.  My attitude can be trashy towards the culture I'm supposed to fit into at times.  Sure, life is now completely different from what it used to be, but the way I respond to culture, incidents, problems, and struggles shouldn't be different...Or maybe it's not.  Maybe it is the same as it was before...Maybe I just need to work on my response to what happens...

There are things that hurt in life.  Big Time!  We can't change it.  Just the way it is...but there's always something to learn in the struggle.  The scars from those deep wounds will remind us of Who He is. 

I've seen God in new ways in the past few months.  He's literally become my Best Friend and Life Savor.  For that I could never say thank You enough...This past year has brought new experiences, fun travels, and death to normal life.  But all of those things have helped me see Him in new ways.  Sure the wounds have been deep in some areas of life, but as I came across this song today I was reminded how beautiful the scars really are...

Below are a few pictures from my 2017.  I've had to look at them time and time again to remind me of all the blessings I've had because truth is, life is full of so many blessings.  Some we see clearly and others we take for granted.  I am very grateful for the countless blessings I've been given in my life and I hope to never take them for granted even though I know my human ways fail over and over...

 

May this week be full of days that take you to Him...through the good and hard. 

"I'm thankful for the scars cause without them I wouldn't know Your heart..." 

♡♥♡♥

Dear Journal...

The lack of sun + gray sky seemed to fit the mood for today.  It's as though someone set the stage for the act + I even had the ability to step into the role very clearly...almost too well for my liking; but then again, that's what good actors do.

To be honest, I have no adequate words for such a time as this.
Only sharp pains + sickening feelings.
Tears + a lack of understandable words...
There's nothing that really describes the pain of leaving your home...your life...
what you've known since you were eleven.
Attempting to share with someone who really has no idea what it's like is, at times, overwhelming...because so many people think I should be excited to "go home."
Truth + Reality both state that I'm not going home.  I'm moving to a new place.  Sure, I've been there before...but only temporarily.  It doesn't have ties to my childhood + a culture I really understand. 
(I'm sorry if that's odd to you, but it's just the way it is...)

Big Mennonite communities scare me,
America is a place we visit for Christmas some years.
Motorcycles are driven on a daily basis out of necessity.
Foreign words + switching languages is a part of every day life.
And love is a random act of kindness for someone because I've been given a love I'll never fully grasp.  That's life!

Continual images of pulling away from our house for the last time + taking those heavy bags through security with a blurred vision due to countless tears streaming down my face flood my mind almost daily.  A flood that makes it hard to breathe.

It just doesn't sink in.  There's no way I'm leaving Thailand for good.  There has to be a ticket back somewhere...

Currently it seems impossible to wrap my mind around any of this...
Even with walls looking bare and a countdown haunting my "To Do" list.

But one thing I do know...
He leads us through beautiful, green fields + through raging, rough waters.
And through all the ups and downs, struggles + tears...He calls me His.  No matter how much I struggle or how much I don't understand.  He says I'm valuable.  There's a plan greater than me.  My worth is in Him.  I am His Daughter...Priceless.

Hurricane Ivan

It was September 6, 2004, and our family was at the beach for a swim.  Everything seemed pretty normal that afternoon except that the waves were quite a bit bigger than they usually were.  As a nine year old girl, nothing was stopping me from having fun that day until we pulled in at the grocery store to grab a few things on the way home and the windows were boarded shut.

“A hurricane is coming” was the reason given for all the wood covering the doors and windows of the different public buildings.  We chuckled a little to ourselves because warnings had been given before, but all we ever received was a tropical storm.  We were below the hurricane belt, so these people were probably just being overly cautious.

Tuesday, September 7^th came and so did the cancellation of school.  My best friend was at our house and we decided to play house in the living room since it was rainy outside.  After the wind became a little more intense, we moved to the kitchen; but after a huge nutmeg tree snapped over right behind our house, we headed for the basement apartment and to a room that didn’t have any windows.  The two single girls that lived in the basement of our mountain side house, my family and my best friend hid out in a little room for hours while the storm smashed the island.  As the constant sound of a jet engine hovered over the house and the continual shattering of glass filled my little ears, I sat on a bed up against the wall and cried.  I was sure my death was right before my young eyes and I didn’t know what to do with all the emotions.  While the adults held the doors shut and water ran through the room, I cried out to God due to the fear that was raging in me.  My heart spoke to Him about the fear I was facing and I also told Him that I had heard of many miracles in the Bible, but wanted to see one in my own life.  As a young, nine-year-old girl, I asked God for a miracle that day…I wanted us all to make it out alive.

After hours of sitting in a little room with eight other people, the storm moved on, but the darkness outside hindered us from seeing the damage the island had taken from the storm.  All we could do is go to bed and allow the morning light to bring the reality of Hurricane Ivan to our faces.  I can’t tell you what all went through my mind that night as my parents, three brothers and I all went to sleep on a double bed in a room that didn’t belong to us.

The next morning came and with it a huge dose of reality.  The roof had been taken off our house and there was water standing on the floor.  The walls were plastered in leaves and belongings were drenched in water.  CDs were all over the floor and random objects in odd places.  The storm had done its job quite well.  But our family was all alive and I had experienced a miracle first hand.

The coming days, weeks, and months put our family in a place we had never been or experienced before but we were not alone.  The rest of the island was struggling to make it through just like we were.  Living without running water and electricity for a while changed us.  It made an impact on our lives that doesn’t just happen in a short period of time.  Every morning when I got up for the following days after Hurricane Ivan, I would go to the living room or veranda where we’d, my brothers, friend and I, eat orange flavored cookies or wafers to help hold us over till we had food for breakfast while my dad soaked his arm in some strong smelling liquid to keep it from infection.  His motorcycle accident didn't really come at the best timing, but then again...this wasn't an experience we signed up for or planned...  My mom would wash clothes by hand and our water came from mud puddles or a little spring back in the bush somewhere.   Days brought lots of work and extra patience.  Living in the basement apartment with several other people/families kept it interesting...  As kids we found our imaginations to be rather helpful when it came to playing in the cocoa.  Since the trees that were usually standing upright were now on their sides, we turned them into animals and anything else we could come up with.  Life was different now, and so were we.

Here I am today, 13 years later, and I still think back to that day in September whenever I hear of Hurricanes or find myself on September 7th.  Within the past year I have noticed that I no longer have to battle the feelings of sickness every time I hear thunder or experience a big rain storm like I've had to ever since Hurricane Ivan.  It changed me.  It changed my perspective on life and who I am now.

Today, there are many children in this world experiencing tragedies of multiple degrees in life and I can't help but pray that God will give them peace in the midst of a storm, courage to be strong when it's scary, comfort when everything is upside-down, and rest when their bodies just need to sleep.  Life is a journey and we all face trials of many kinds...the least we can do is reach out to those in need and give where it's needed the most.  We all have received, so therefore it's only right that we give out of that grace and love of Jesus.  

    

Change

Love/hate relationships have shown up in my life more than I'd like to admit and when it comes to change, it's about as strong as any other love/hate relationship.

I love travel.  Seeing new places, cultures, people, food, and ways of living intrigue me.  Learning a new language fascinates me.  The change of location for a short amount of time makes me happy.  It draws me to the Creator in a new aspect.  I find myself seeing more of His heart through different groups of people and in that learning process, I also find myself falling in love with people I can't even communicate with.  Even though the speaking is limited, the smiles, laughter, hugs, and even the holding of hands moves me to tears because we all have something in common.  We all have a longing that is deep within us.  It longs to be filled by a Father who knows us better than we even know ourselves.  We have emotions and they all translate into other languages pretty simply.

I don't think I'll ever get over my love for travel.  The joy that it brings to my heart is like therapy.  It changes me more than I'll ever be able to explain to someone.

I also love change when it comes in the form of rearranging furniture or redecorating the house.  There was a time in my teenage years that I would rearrange my room almost every week just because I loved the newness that it brought to life.  For the following week I could enjoy something different...something familiar with a brand new twist to it.  It gave me a weird sense of comfortableness.  Somehow the change spoke something to my soul that change alone could speak...words just didn't cut it.

When it comes to moving or people coming and going all the time, I hate change.  Nothing within me brings that heart stabbing pain and tears to my eyes like the change of something a little more permanent...it just hurts more than words can begin to express.

It all started at the young age of six when my family moved to the Caribbean where I first encountered a small taste of the rest of my life.  I can remember the first morning at the breakfast table like it was yesterday.  My parents, two brothers and I attempted to have family devotions before we partook of the food before us, but it only ended up being a family crying session.  Tears were the only way to express the mixed emotions from the change we were attempting to swing through.  It was hard.

The years following that first move continued to bring constant change in different forms into my life.  High school groups would come to the island for a missions trip.  They would stay in our house and become our friends, but then they would leave....go back to their American world and maybe say hi to me five years later when I embarrassingly couldn't even remember their name.  It was fun to meet new people, but the constant come and go slowly began to create the foundation to an ugly wall in my life.

After four years of life in the Caribbean, my family hit up the US for a year before we made our home in Asia.  In the words of my counselor, the plane never really touched down for very long in Minnesota before it took off again.  Trying to find my place in an unfamiliar, yet familiar, place took time...but we didn't have much time.  I did my best to connect and I think I did a pretty good job.  Maybe it was too good of a job because when it came time to move to Thailand, I was absolutely sure that my dad didn't know what he was doing.  Sure, God tells people what to do, but sometimes people don't hear right, and I was pretty sure that he wasn't getting it all correct.  Much to my dismay, and even for my own good, my terrible attitude didn't change the plan.  I am ever so grateful that I didn't see the struggles coming in moving because I might have given up hope, but slowly I experienced the grace of God as leaving a somewhat familiar culture and diving into a new one took place.

It was hard.  I just wanted my life in Grenada back.  I wanted the life that I new so well right in front of me.  I wanted people to understand me and to give me a break because I wasn't really enjoying what was taking place...it took time, but I came around...God worked in my selfish heart and I slowly began to enjoy my home in CNX.

Even though meeting new people is just a part of every day life for me and it's easy and enjoyable, I find myself standing right beside the wall of self protection on a weekly basis.  I want to be where it's safe...or at least where I know I can take shelter if it gets too messy.  The constant change of people coming and going all the time has brought more tears to my eyes than I'd like to admit.  The fear that this 'new friend' is going to go back to his own country and not really care about my life anymore is rather real.  It's not that I doubt the loyalty in that individual, but that I have experienced it all first hand.  They didn't do it on purpose...no one has.  At least as far as I know... but when someone leaves their home for four or eight months, they have their whole squad and support team back there waiting for them...their life at home is ready for them to come back and their friends will be their companions once they return.  They won't need me anymore...the need was only there for a short amount of time and then it went away...

Sometimes God calls people to join your staff for two or three years and then He calls them on to some other place...in that time they become family.  They invest in you and pour tons of energy into your life...more than you deserve.  But when it comes time to move on, you cry, hate the airport, and try to find a way to move on in life...

The same cycle takes place again, but this time it take you longer to let them into your life because you don't want to face the pain all over again.  Eventually you are reminded how much you receive from these people and how blessed you really are...in spite of the pain.  You open your heart and go through it all again...it hurts.  Your trust is tested and your heart feels like it's left in a little pile on the floor...but God gives you everything you need to pick it back up and keep going.  You see the blessings when you spend time with these different people in other countries and you thank God that He brought them into your life...yes, there were rough times, but there are blessings...

Change is a major part of life...and so is pain.  We all experience it at different levels and in different ways...I'm not here to say that my life is harder than anyone else's because I don't think that's true.  I am here to say that if you know a Third Culture Kid, please do all that you can to invest in them.  Maybe it's taking them out for coffee to hear what all is going on in their life...and then keeping up with them for the long haul....you do what you think will work, but please don't let it be short term.  The last thing a TCK needs is another person to attempt to care, only to realize a few months later that they were just being used as a crutch in life...

I have been blessed with people who have given and spoken into my life more than I feel like I deserve.  I have some good friends today because those individuals chose to go out of their way to let me know that they care...it wasn't a short term thing, but something that lasted for years...that's valuable!  And I wish that other TCKs could feel that love too.

I'm not here to say TCKs are the only ones who struggle with this stuff.  I know there are some of you out there who don't have that name, but resonate with some of these struggles too.  I just feel like it's only my duty to speak up for the hundreds of TCKs who are trying to make it through life with some big obstacles starring them in the face.

If you are a TCK, hang on tight.  The roads don't necessarily get easier, but the character that is built from the struggles is valuable.  This family that we are a part of understands...and one day we'll make it to eternity and see the lives that were affected by our family's lives overseas.  The eternal celebration will exceed any pain we experienced here and the struggles will fade...Hang on and stay strong.  God always gives us what we need at the exact time that we need it.

"Sometimes our lives have to be completely shaken up, changed, and rearranged to relocate us to the place we are meant to be."