Have you ever had one of those moments where your worlds
collide and no one in the room can relate to you? Think about high school reunions. If you’ve never been to one, you might someday. This summer was my first experience in going
back in time, stepping into old roles, meeting old friends, and I’ve got to
say, it weirded me out a bit, and not because my friends are old.
Last weekend I had the privilege of singing with my high
school choir from the 1970s and seeing photos of us on tour wearing pea green
polyester leisure suits back when we lived in the same world. Most of us come from affluent north Dallas neighborhoods—some
much more affluent than my own, which wasn’t too shabby in the least.
What struck me as humorous was how diverse our lives are
now. The only
equalizing factors were the choir robes and the songs we sang. Somehow it tickled me to think that only one
or two of my old choir friends have any idea where or how I live now.
While many of them live in lovely big homes to rival those
of their parents, successful by anyone’s standards, here I am, a lowly
missionary with (gasp!) seven children, living in an adobe “hut” (compared to
their homes, anyway), but still one of the richest people along my unpaved end
of my southern Mexico town.
I just kept thinking, If
only they knew. At the same time, I had another unexpected thought: Why
don’t they? How is it that I
disappeared from their world? That seems unfortunate. There are many reasons my home church never
sponsored my ministry, but this weekend, it seemed strange.
After a packed summer of being introduced, honored, and
appreciated at churches around the U.S. where people were glad to know me and
glad to be part of what God is doing through my life, it was weird to be invisible at the one
church I called home for eighteen years.
On the one hand, it was nice to have a weekend of not talking
about unreached people groups in Oaxaca and about the need for audio Scriptures
for non-literate indigenous people. It was great just singing the old hymns and reminiscing
with old friends. But on the other hand,
it felt almost disloyal to put my real life behind me and almost pretend that I
was a successful Dallasite (with fewer than three children), working a normal
job.
Is this ringing a bell with you? Have your worlds ever collided?
Each week I write these different posts, holding my breath thinking none
of you will get it, that perhaps I am the only one who has experienced
this. Then you all chime in with your
own experiences, and I see that we are all in this together. Oh, how I appreciate you ladies and your
lives.
IRL* If you happen to find yourselves in a collision of
worlds where no one gets your life, you are not alone!
I spent part of my weekend being a part of a college friend's wedding. I felt like the bridesmaid that no one really knew, aside from the bride. But to explain my life to everyone seemed like too much of an effort, so I just sat quietly and listened to everyone talk about their "normal" lives. It was nice not to have to share all about my life, but it still felt a bit lonely. So, yes, I get it. :)
ReplyDeleteAh, yes, those weddings where everyone knows each other. Btdt, too. Yep, it's lonely being different sometimes.
DeleteOh, I hear ya. When we are in the U.S. and meeting new people or old friends... I often feel that they don't see 'me' for 'me' until they know that I don't live a normal life... but I live in Africa! Yet... once they know that, they suddenly loose all ability to relate and sometimes things stop dead in their tracks and only I can seem to keep them moving forward by asking more questions about them... so that the 'awkward' situation of my life doesn't have to try to be understood. I totally get what you are saying.
ReplyDeleteTaking it a step further, isn't it amazingly gratifying to have visitors from the U.S. see where and how you live? That's the best.
DeleteI was on a plane flying back from Dallas to Ohio, and carefully avoided mentioning where I live OR what I do. Otherwise any small talk would have come to a screeching halt. It only goes forward, like you say, when the focus is on the other person.
Yes, I TOTALLY get what you're saying. For me it happens when we visit my brothers at their AFFLUENT Dallas homes. When they visit me on furlough, I work, shop, cook food, etc,. because I can't afford to pay for everyone to eat in a restaurant.
ReplyDeleteWhen I visit them, we eat in restaurants the whole time, and so it becomes a bit of a financial issue for us! They are so kind to us, but sometimes I think they just don't get our lives.
I didn't realize you had family in Dallas, too. Yep, that happens here in Ohio, too. I just said this morning that I am ready to be home and NOT eating in restaurants any more. (Five more days...)
DeleteI get it, and I am struggling with it right now. After three and a half years on the field I was looking forward to reconnecting with old friends at church. Well, they have moved on. I guess I have too, I got married in the middle of those three and a half years. But, I want to reconnect, I want to continue to care about those relationships. So why does church suddenly start feeling like a duty? Why does visiting with people feel a lot like going through motions, trying to do or say the right thing. I thought my personality was a bit squished living in West AFrica and adapting now. I suddenly need a whole new adapting mechanism! Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeletemaligirl (malimom's daughter for reference Jamie Jo)
Hi, Maligirl! That's such a cute user name, and I do remember you from the WOTH retreat. Do be patient with your friends. They will continue changing, and so will you, but if the love is based on a Christian foundation, it will endure. Later on they start to "get" you, but it happens gradually. You'll find a new norm. Meanwhile, hang in there!
DeleteHi Jamie Jo, I retreat with your (and the other WOTH) blog from time to time. A part of me relates much of the time and this one especially rings true. We are 'missionaries at home' so to speak, living and serving in our home country the USA. But we have crammed (should I really use that word-depends on where you come from) our family of 5 into a very small, very cheap, very old 2 bedroom home. Our pre-teen daughter shares a room with her 2 elementary aged brothers (gasp!) We work among homeless families in our city. Most of our friends live very different American lives. When I atempt to share struggles I get comments like this; "that's what you get..." (for making your children share a room, for letting your children be around 'those' types of people, etc...)
ReplyDeleteI was recently talking with the Lord about not having a place where I fit. Your words of 'worlds colliding' fit so well with what I was thinking. Only part of me fits wherever I am, never all of me. My Lord graciously reminded me that He has gone to His Father's house to prepare a place for me (John 14 i think). That has brought great comfort and encouragement in living with this constant tension between colliding worlds. It helps me to hang on and not try to change it, looking forward to my hope that is heaven. Thank You for your real-life words. They are very encouraging!
Hi, Melony. Nice to know you join us here, too. Your situation is very different and in some ways more complicated than ours, since people don't expect you to have those clashes of culture within your own passport country.
DeleteAnything that turns our eyes to heaven and eternity is a good thing in my book, even though we don't always enjoy it at the time.
Oh how I hate the insinuation that "we made our bed, now we must lie in it." As though we chose this life for ourselves. It goes to show they do not get it - the whole life of obedience with eyes on a future goal.
Be encouraged. Your comment encouraged me today.
Thanks for the warm welcome!
ReplyDelete