Happy birthday! You’re looking good for 240. Sorry I had to miss celebrating this one with you, but I hope to be there for the big quarter-century next decade.
You know, I think I like you better now that we’ve been apart for a year. I guess I sort of took you for granted when I couldn’t get away from you. Now that I’m gone, I appreciate you a lot more.
You’ve done some strange things lately, and there’s a lot we should talk about, but today’s not the day for that. Today’s a day for me to tell you how much I love you.
I do love you, I’ve found. I never really loved you until I left you. I guess I didn’t have anything to compare you to. But let me tell you, I know now how lucky I am to be a part of you.
America, you are beautiful. You have virtually every kind of biome within your borders. You cover the plains, the hills, the mountains, the deserts, the tundra, the beaches, and the tropical forests. Even better, you have every kind of people within your borders. You are beautiful.
America, you’re great to live in. International comparisons say your food kind of stinks, but you do well in quality of life, equality, innovation, education, and freedom. And you’re always pushing to do better.
America, you stand out globally. Of all the nations in the world that receive immigrants and refugees, you’re among the best at integrating people and upholding their well-being and their rights. It’s expected of you, and you do your best to deliver. I didn’t recognize that until I left. I didn’t see how unusual it is, because to me, it just makes sense to operate that way.
America, you’re a good place to be able to go home to. It’s nice to know that I could always go home without any trouble. It’s good to have a passport from you that opens so many doors. It’s good to be confident of the freedom to move from place to place, to speak without fear, and assemble with others as I please.
America, I miss you some days. Some days I don’t. But I’m always glad to know I belong to you. I keep the Stars and Stripes on my wall, right next to the flag of my new home. I used to see the flag every day, and I never thought twice about it. Now, I am glad whenever I see it. It’s strange; I usually see it everywhere on your birthday, but today I only saw it on a Digical ad and on a French man’s t-shirt! I miss seeing it fly high and proud on a pole on every corner.
Happy birthday, America. I hope you make good choices this year. It’s sad to think that this could be one of your worst years, but I’m praying that it will be one of your best. Happy birthday. I’ll see you soon!
Before I left the United States, there were a lot of things I took for granted. I guess everyone thinks their own life is pretty typical until they get a taste of something else.
1. Traffic lights. We have a single traffic light in the entire country of Sint Maarten. It spends half its life blinking yellow. Here, we have few intersections and a lot of round-a-bouts. It’s actually a much better system, and a lot fewer accidents occur because of it.
2. Refrigerated milk. You can get refrigerated milk here, but not every grocery store carries it. I always buy ultra heat-treated (UHT) milk. It’s cheaper, safer, and easier, especially since we get so many power outages. Also, I can stick several cases on the fridge and use them as I need them.
3. Electricity. Speaking of power outages, we get them a lot. Our single power plant can only handle so much at once. So we go without water and/or power on a regular basis.
4. Air conditioning. I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona where air conditioning is literally vital for life. Here, we like to use it now and then but we could certainly live without it. Our apartment complex took almost two months to fix our unit last summer when it died. We were OK; we have a nice trade winds breeze that we welcomed through open doors and windows.
5. Multiple traffic lanes. Unlike Phoenix’s six-lane highways, Sint Maarten has a basic two-lane road going all the way around the island. Passing anyone is an adventure.
6. Self-defense weapons. I used to carry mace everywhere I went. That’s just what you do in Phoenix if you’re walking around alone. I can’t carry anything here– not mace, not a pocket knife, not even a chair. Well, realistically I can carry a chair, but not legally. If you could whack someone in the head with it, you can’t legally carry it down the street. People will make weapons with anything, though– the supermarket next door once got held up by a guy with a stick.
7. Private beaches. There are no private beaches here! Every strip of sand on this island is public property. I took my dog to one of the less beautiful beaches this afternoon. There were a dozen locals there and me. And it’s a Saturday. If that beach was in the States, it would have been PACKED because so many good beaches are privately owned and the rest are perpetually filled. Here, you can enjoy the most incredible strips of paradise no matter your paycheck. I love that about Sint Maarten.
8. Sales tax. Yes, there is no sales tax here! Hooray for no math! Oh, and for not paying extra for stuff.
No matter where you go, there will always be something better and worse about it than the last place you lived. I guess the moral to the story is that wherever you are, enjoy the good things about that place instead of focusing on the bad things. There’s so much to appreciate in life!
Cross-cultural transition can teach the expat many lessons. Last post, we heard from Emily Montgomery about what she has learned from the process. Today, Emily offers five more words of wisdom.
5. Get in your zone.
I define a comfort zone as a situation where I know what is expected and I am capable of succeeding. In my own culture, I subconsciously orchestrated my interactions so I spent most of my time in my comfort zone.
That handy little ability is not possible when you enter an unknown cultural context.
Right after I moved, I had an identity crisis that lasted several months. Because I was not operating from within my comfort zone, I wasn’t acting like myself.
I was often surprised by my responses. Experiences that used to excite me no longer did. The limits of what I could handle in certain situations were different than they had been in my own culture. It was so disorienting.
And then I started to develop a comfort zone in my new context.
As things became more familiar and I learned the cultural norms around me, some of my old traits began to reemerge. My confidence started to reappear slowly.
There will always be some parts of your comfort zone that cannot translate to the new culture. So, parts of your personality will only come out when you visit home. But, there are also new layers to yourself that you never saw before, that only exist in the new context.
Be brave and engage the new culture. It will be uncomfortable at first, but remember that you are expanding the zone where you can truly be yourself. It’s worth it!
6. Obey God today.
One time during the first wave of transition, I was crying and talking to God. I said between sobs, “My kids won’t even know their cousins!” Then it was like God told me to really think about what I was saying.
I was single with no prospects of marriage in view. Children were a far-off dream at that point. I was carrying the weight of a sacrifice God hadn’t even asked me to make.
In Luke 9:23, Jesus told his followers to pick up their crosses daily. I learned to apply that to my transition process.
Emotionally, I acknowledged and grieved what I was currently missing in the lives of my community at home because I was far away. But, I didn’t allow myself to grieve an event that hadn’t happened yet.
Only God can see for certain how your future will play out. You don’t know that you’ll miss your brother’s wedding, never see your grandpa again, or spend every holiday season away from home.
The only sacrifice Jesus is asking you to make is the one you are facing today. And, he promised that he will give you the right amount of grace to carry that sorrow (2 Corinthians 12:9).
7. Take on a posture of prayer.
About a year before I moved overseas, I heard about the idea of creating a personal prayer posture. The friend who told me about it said it helped her to focus on being present with Jesus.
The habit of getting into a certain physical position and opening up time with God with a certain phrase can be very stabilizing in times of insecurity and transition.
I was so grateful for this practice as I weathered the adjustment to a new culture.
There were times when God seemed very quiet and I felt very alone. It was comforting to pray the words of my prayer posture and then just sit in the sanctity and intimacy that had already been created by those same words hundreds of times before.
It was like I had stirred up a current towards God that I could just float in on those days when I didn’t have the energy to swim.
There is no magical secret about this practice. Your prayers are not more effective if you take on a certain posture first. The whole goal is to honestly come into God’s presence and pay attention to him. If a prayer posture is no longer accomplishing that, ditch it!
8. It’s just life.
Leaving your home culture and building a life in a foreign country is an unusual thing. Even with our increasingly accessible world, expatriates are just a tiny percent of the global population. By relocating to a new culture, you are doing something dramatically out of the ordinary.
I was caught up in that drama at first, which made my already-heightened emotions even crazier. Every decision felt weighty. Every task felt urgent. Every prayer was desperate, and every success was a miracle.
When my body began to break down from the stress, I realized I wouldn’t be able to sustain such high intensity for much longer.
As I started to really look at my daily life, I realized it was just that—life.
I had to buy groceries and cook food. I had to pay bills and save for big purchases. I made friends, told stories, took trips, did laundry, and procrastinated the chores I wasn’t fond of.
Life was an adventure, and a challenge, and a thrill. It was also “like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone” (James 4:14 New Living Translation).
Continually remind yourself that this craziness is just life. See from God’s eternal perspective. Don’t make a bigger deal of these temporary things than they deserve.
9. Laugh at yourself.
I remember visiting a local friend’s home for the first time and meeting her elderly mother. The older woman gestured emphatically to her head when I greeted her, pulling my head down. I didn’t understand the language well enough to know what she was saying, so I very bewilderedly leaned down to tap my forehead against hers.
I learned later that it’s customary to greet elderly people with a kiss on the head. My friend’s mother got her head bopped instead because I was clueless!
There are so many funny things that happen when intelligent, capable adults suddenly find themselves bumbling around in a new culture. Don’t take yourself too seriously. If you can laugh about your mistakes, your local friends probably will, too.
I also learned the value of game nights, dance parties, karaoke, and anything else lighthearted and silly.
By moving to a new culture, you’ve introduced an immense amount of stress into your life. Temper that with occasional times to let your hair down and simply laugh as hard as you can. Trust me, those activities will do wonders for your spirit.
10. Wait it out.
In a recently released movie, a girl describes the transition to a new culture perfectly.
“You’ll feel so homesick that you’ll want to die, and there’s nothing you can do about it apart from endure it. But you will, and it won’t kill you. And one day the sun will come out – you might not even notice straight away, it’ll be that faint… And you’ll realize that this is where your life is.” (Brooklyn 2015)
Struggling to adjust to a new culture and dealing with homesickness are not signs of personal weakness or failure. They are not feelings to be ashamed of or minimized.
I often looked at other friends who had moved overseas and berated myself for struggling so much more than they seemed to. I put a huge amount of added pressure on myself to “snap out of it” and fix the problem of my culture shock as quickly as possible.
None of my desperate responses helped the situation, which only led to more disappointment and frustration. It was a vicious cycle.
Finally after many months of this downward spiral, I threw my hands up and just gave in to the fact that I was struggling. I admitted it to my friends at home and in the new culture.
It felt like settling in for a long, cold, winter hibernation. I said some difficult “no’s” and cut back on everything I could. And then, I waited for God to do his work in that season.
And he did.
Conclusion
I talk about the first “season” or “wave” of cultural transition because I don’t think it ends after the initial adjustment period is over. We will always be foreigners now—a little different, a little confusing—even when we are in our home culture again.
That identity can be challenging. But, it is also an honor.
We can take our place among the ranks of the people of faith mentioned in Hebrews 11. “They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on earth” (verse 13b New Living Translation). The chapter goes on to say that they were looking forward to their true homeland in heaven.
That is the hope for us, as well. There is only one place where we will ever really be at home, and Jesus is preparing it for us right now. Hope in that as you learn lessons of your own on this crazy adventure of cultural transition!
Moving overseas is a difficult experience. But it doesn’t have to be horrible. Last year, my friend Emily Montgomery moved from the United States to the Arab world. Along the way, she has learned a lot about herself, God, and the world. Here is her advice to you.
Brace yourself.
Put into words what you imagine about the new culture. Be specific! Write the story of your life in this new place. Where do you see yourself living? What will your work be like? Who will be your friends? What will you struggle with most?
Now go one step below the surface to identify your expectations. For example, as I imagined life overseas before I moved, I foresaw lots of busyness and little time to rest.
Expectation: My life will be as full and varied as it was at home.
Reality: The pace of life in the new culture, the size of my social group, and my role at work was entirely different than in my home culture. This was a missed expectation!
If you’re a starry-eyed optimist like me, take a careful look at what is going on in your imagination. It’s not wrong to hope for amazing things—be excited about the possibilities! But, don’t set yourself up for disappointment by going into a cultural transition blind to what you’re really expecting.
You’re not dying.
Before I moved, I asked for advice from anyone who had lived overseas before. Several times I was told, “It’s like you die and are reborn into the new culture. Grieve that death and let go of who you used to be.”
I’m sure they meant well, but that advice was detrimental for my transition.
Instead of being excited and grateful about the biggest adventure of my life, I was mourning. I cried every day in the weeks before I moved. When I finally got to my new home overseas, I was not happy to be there. I was emotionally wrung out!
Looking back, I’d tell my pre-expat self to expect a lot of change. Relationships look different long-distance, I took on new roles, even my personality shifted.
But, my old self isn’t dead. In my overseas home, I’ve discovered new sides of who I’ve always been that are only visible in this context. What a gift!
Who you are does not change because of where you live. You’re not dying—you’re growing.
Tell the true story.
At the darkest point of my transition, everyone told me how normal it is to struggle. At the time, that didn’t make me feel much better.
What did help was when a friend, listening to my meltdown, asked, “What’s actually happening here?”
That stopped me in my tracks.
It forced me to look at the reality of the situation instead of just repeating the dramatic story I had been telling myself. When I looked closely, I could identify core issues and spot areas of spiritual warfare. I was empowered to fight back.
When you’re in the thick of transition, emotions are heightened. The highs are exuberating and the lows are debilitating. Find friends who will listen well, but then ask you to tell the true story.
Hint: If you hear yourself using generalizations, you might be telling a version of reality that’s clouded with a lot of amped-up emotions. Take a deep breath and rephrase it.
“Men here never treat me with respect” becomes “In this culture, men don’t show women respect in ways that are familiar to me”. This reveals a major area of cultural tension that you can explore. When do you feel respected? Ask a local girlfriend the same question. You’ll probably find that in reality, just your perspective needs to change.
Don’t listen to doubts.
I questioned my decision to move overseas at least once a day during my first season of culture shock. I was sure I had misheard God’s instructions, acted impulsively, or simply needed to “get it out of my system” and I should go home now.
I heard a quote somewhere that became my mantra for the battles against doubts. “Never question in the dark what was shown to you in the light.”
God invited me into a different culture after a specific time of seeking direction. The decision was confirmed and supported by my spiritual leaders. I had completed trainings and preparation courses. All of that happened in the “light” before the transition.
It wasn’t until I fully resigned myself to being overseas for the full length of my assignment that I found peace. I stopped imagining what would happen if I gave up and moved home. My heart finally settled into making the best of what I had.
If you’ve committed to being overseas for a specific length of time, just assume that is still what God is asking you to do, even when it gets hard. Don’t consider doing anything else. If God wants you to break your commitment early, he is capable of getting your attention to tell you.
Get in your zone.
I define a comfort zone as a situation where I know what is expected and I am capable of succeeding. In my own culture, I subconsciously orchestrated my interactions so I spent most of my time in my comfort zone.
That handy little ability is not possible when you enter an unknown cultural context.
Right after I moved, I had an identity crisis that lasted several months. Because I was not operating from within my comfort zone, I wasn’t acting like myself.
I was often surprised by my responses. Experiences that used to excite me no longer did. The limits of what I could handle in certain situations were different than they had been in my own culture. It was so disorienting.
And then I started to develop a comfort zone in my new context.
As things became more familiar and I learned the cultural norms around me, some of my old traits began to reemerge. My confidence started to reappear slowly.
There will always be some parts of your comfort zone that cannot translate to the new culture. So, parts of your personality will only come out when you visit home. But, there are also new layers to yourself that you never saw before, that only exist in the new context.
Be brave and engage the new culture. It will be uncomfortable at first, but remember that you are expanding the zone where you can truly be yourself. It’s worth it!
Sint Maarten’s Book Fair is probably the coolest book fair on the planet. Not only does it showcase local authors, it also features many activities and seminars. I was so glad to be able to go to one of the days!
My friend Lisa knows about all the cool stuff to do on the island. She writes the Weekender section of The Daily Herald, so she knows all the events and goes to experience them and take photos. She sometimes invites me to go along with her, and I always have a great time!
There were several local authors who set up booths at the fair. I got to meet a couple of them:
This is Montague Kobbe. He writes historical fiction novels that are set in St. Martin and the surrounding Caribbean islands. I really wanted to buy one, but that will have to wait for a season of life when I have a real job. The books have good reviews, and I’m looking forward to reading them someday.
This is Heddrick McBride. He writes children’s books with main characters who look like Caribbean kids. If you’ve ever looked at the children’s section at the library, you may have noticed that most of the kids in the books are white. Very few feature black families or Caribbean culture. Mr. McBride saw that need and filled it. It’s awesome for the kids on the island to have good books about kids who look like them! You can find his books online here.
We use some of his books at Player Development SXM as reading material for the kids we tutor. As you can see, they enjoy them!
Roland and Laura Richardson were also there, selling the cookbook from Temptations Cafe that Roland illustrated with his paintings. Some of Laura’s poems are in there, too!
After visiting with the authors, I followed Lisa to a poetry reading under the gazebo. It was actually more like spoken word, and I had a great time! I wished that I had planned ahead and brought a poem to read, too. Lisa read a poem in public for the first time ever! It was really good.
We managed to catch the last seminar of the event. It was about how science fiction drives science fact. The panel discussed topics like technology, the mind, and how today’s ideas shape the destiny of the future. It made me a little sad that my master’s degree is online. I forgot how much I miss listening to and discussing academic lectures. It was a privilege to hear ideas from some of Sint Maarten’s great minds.
If you’re in Sint Maarten next June, be sure to check out the book fair! I’m sad that we’ll be gone before then, but I’m so glad I could be a part of it this year.
I am a Christian, and I am fasting for Ramadan. Why? Read on.
Ramadan is the Muslim holy month of prayer and fasting. During the month, Muslims do not eat during the daylight hours. This Ramadan, I and many members of our church are observing a Ramadan fast for at least one day. I’m probably only doing one day, because I turn into a raving rabid bear if I don’t eat and my husband needs his normal(ish) wife this week.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I do not believe in synchrotism, the merging of religions. I do not believe that all religions are the same or that the various religions are all ways of worshiping the same God. I hold to orthodox Christian teachings and believe that the Bible is perfectly inerrant. I am not fasting to observe Ramadan per se.
In our community, Christians and Muslims live in close proximity with close ties of friendship. I wish it were this way all over the world. Our next-door neighbor is Muslim, and he’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. The day before Ramadan started, he asked us if we’d mind him using his blender to make breakfast before the sun rose. He didn’t want to disturb us while we were sleeping. We’ve had a lot of great conversations about life and about Jesus and Islam and religion and worship. He’s one of many good Muslim friends we love and respect.
In fact, those friends are the reason I am fasting for Ramadan. When Christians fast (and this may be true for other religions as well), we spend the time we would normally spend on food and dedicate it to prayer for something that weighs heavy on our hearts. The gnawing hunger throughout the day reminds us to stop and pray between mealtimes as well. What weighs heavily on my heart this Ramadan is my Muslim friends. During our day of fasting, my Christian friends and I will be praying that our Muslim friends will come to fully know Jesus and the saving power of His death and resurrection.
This is the part of my post where many people will become offended. Please do not be offended, and please keep reading. In our culture, it is somehow “wrong” to want someone to convert to your religion. As if it’s trying to steal someone from one club for another! Actually, it’s not like that. In fact, if I did not care what my friends believe, I wouldn’t be a very good friend. Here’s why:
Imagine I know that a hurricane is about to hit the island. And I know that there is only one airplane capable of flying out of the storm. Would it be loving for me to let my friends get on an airplane that I know will crash? Would it be loving for me to care more about offending them by telling them their airplane isn’t strong enough to outfly the storm? No! It would be loving to tell them about my airplane.
That’s how it is when Christian share about their faith with others and pray for them to know Jesus. We believe that the only way to Heaven is by trusting that Jesus has paid the penalty for our offenses. We believe that no amount of good works can cancel out the bad ones. We believe that a relationship with God and forgiveness of sins can only come from trusting in Jesus and his death and resurrection. And the part we hate talking about– that if you’re not headed to Heaven, you’re headed to a place that is far less pleasant.
If a Christian truly believes that, the most hateful thing we could do is not share about Jesus with others, and not want Jesus for our friends. The most loving thing we can do is tell them that Jesus has their back if they trust in him. Even if you disagree with my religious beliefs, we can at least agree on that.
Muslim friends, it is very hard for most Christians to get the nerve up to share about their faith with you. Religion is a highly volatile subject, and it is hard for many of us to bring it up. In fact, most of us will probably shy away from it and hope someone else talks to you. But we will almost always pray for you, and I hope that makes you glad. If your Christian friend talks about Jesus with you, please know that friend loves and cares about you very much.
And I love you, too. There is nothing I want more for you than to know Jesus the way I do. I long for you to know that he is God, and not just a prophet. I desire to spend eternity with you in Heaven. I hope that before we part ways, you’ll hear that from my mouth. If we never have that conversation, I believe I will have failed in our friendship in that way. Know that this Ramadan, I will be thinking of you and praying for you.
