Reevaluating the Whole Parenting Thing

After all these years of living overseas, I still find myself in the role of learner and student, never the expert.  I'm not an expert on anything, but especially not in this whole business of raising kids on the mission field.  If I ever come across as a know-it-all, just because I've done it for so long, well - I'm not.  

Most often I feel like Sgt. Schultz on Hogan's Heroes:  "I say nothing.... I know nothing!"

On Sunday while the more serious football enthusiasts were watching the Super Bowl, I was enjoying a lovely coffee klatsch with a sociable group of lesser football fans.  The conversation flew from one topic to another as is typical among my friends.  At one juncture, the subject matter centered on cross-cultural child-rearing. Mostly I just listened.

Just as we all have our own ways of coping, surviving, and thriving on the field, either by hunkering down or blending in, or any other variety of ways mentioned in a recent blog post by Rachel Pieh titled, 3 Types of Expatriates, we also have our own personal parenting styles and methods of raising children on the field. 

Some will attempt to thoroughly immerse their children in the culture, sending them to the local schools in the local language.  Some will keep their kids primarily in the expat community and English speaking schools, with the emphasis on preparing them for life and university in the U.S. someday.  Some will keep their kids at home, teaching them in English with the focus on joining in ministry opportunities when they arise.  Others will choose a combination of the above.

It’s all well and good.  Each couple must decide for themselves which approach is the best for their particular situation and their individual children.  There is no one right answer for every missionary family.  The trouble comes when we start looking at each other and passing judgment on others’ decisions that conflict with our own.  Thankfully I live in a community with a healthy amount of tension that results from differing opinions and experiences, minus any overt criticism.

  
Once again I refrain from offering the one-size-fits-all solution.  I’ll just emphasize that it’s a tough decision that needs to be re-evaluated regularly.  Just because one approach worked for a while does not mean we can't change it later.  Whatever you choose may leave you with doubts and regrets.  How’s that for a depressing thought? All we can do is pray, seek godly wisdom, and agree with our husbands on the right path for our unique families.
  
For me, I am in a season of reevaluating whether it’s time to drag my three teens out of their comfortable little bubble more frequently, take more forays into Indian villages, and force them to take more cross-cultural risks.  

How about you?  Where does your family fit in the cross-cultural continuum?  Are you happy with your decisions?  Ready for a change?  Do tell.  And do any of you dare to call yourself an expert on raising a family on the field?  I'm just curious.

The good news is that most of the time, third culture kids turn out just fine.  I cling to that hope.

 

IRL:  Still struggling with the desire to be an “expert” in this whole raising kids overseas, while admitting I am really just learning it all with you.

Thriving With Beauty and Grace

Don't you just love the term Global Nomad?  Usually we hear it in reference to third culture kids, but it's also an appropriate picture of what it means to be a “woman of the harvest.”  A nomad moves around a lot rather than settling in one place.  Does this describe your life?

    

You do your best to bloom where you’re planted only to be uprooted AGAIN.  This is a recurring theme for many global workers.  How do we make a “place where we temporarily reside” into a home, knowing that we might have to pull up stakes at a moment’s notice?

In my first year of marriage we lived in a mobile home before moving to an apartment that we managed in exchange for free rent.  The second year we were at Jungle Camp (six weeks at base camp in Texas and six weeks in Mexico, or something like that), then in Ohio at dmil’s condo for five months, and then to Antigua where we lived with a Guatemalan family during language school until we moved to missionary housing in Guatemala City.   

Count them: five moves in one year.  I'm not sure we ever fully unpacked suitcases that whole time.

The next several years we averaged one move every nine or ten months until finally relocating to Oaxaca, where we persuaded our landlords to sell us the house they would no longer need for themselves.  What a blessing to call a place our own, to fix up the yard, put in a swing set, add a bedroom and second bathroom, and periodically throw out some seeds and hope for a garden.

I say this not to make you envious, but to hopefully demonstrate that I’ve been on both ends – of uncertainty and being settled.

Looking back I often wonder what I might have done differently to make those temporary dwellings feel more like home.  What could I suggest to help women quickly and inexpensively bloom where they are planted?  Then I decided I would open it up to the WOTH forum of readers here.  Some of you can answer with a lot more authority since you are living this out currently, not looking back twenty years through rose colored glasses.

You know how it goes.   You rent a house, fix it up, and the landlord either raises the rent where you can't afford it, or he decides to let his son and daughter-in-law live there.  You have weeks to pack up and move out.  Or you move into a flat, get curtains made, put a few pictures on the wall, and your visas are denied and you have to leave the country for an indefinite period of time.  The possible scenarios are endless and varied, but the result is always the same – you have to leave much sooner than expected or hoped.

What do you do differently the next time around?  Is it worth putting any time, effort, or money into landscaping or beautifying a place you can’t call your own?  Is it possible to make a rental property home even though you might get evicted on short notice? 

Again, it's always comforting to know that we are strangers and aliens and that our true home is in heaven, but in the here and now we still need some practical suggestions on surviving and thriving with beauty and grace.

IRL* I'm looking forward to hearing what advice you might offer each other. Please leave your comments below.