The Foreign Land Called America

In just 16 days, our family gets on an airplane and starts our journey to strange and interesting country called America. Politics, riots, and lawsuits set aside, there's much to look forward to. Family, friends, dishwashers, dryers, Christmas carols, and chedder cheese make the list. But to be honest, there's a few things we're nervous about as well.

We are no longer 100% American.

Sorry, we’re not. We’re not really Thai either, but we’ve been pretty out of the loop on pop-culture. We first noticed this when my husband that he completely missed March Madness. It was already May. So if you rattle off your favorite actor or TV show, please don’t be offended if I ask if that’s a town in Montana.

I’m going to drive like a 95-year old.

Thailand Traffic.

Seriously. American driving freaks me out a bit. You all drive on the wrong side of the road and go at crazy speeds. If I start to go over 45 mph in Thailand, I feel like I’m really trucking. Plus there are those little black cars with blinking lights on the top that expect people to stop at stoplights and stop signs. Next month, if you see a driver with bloodshot eyes nervously driving at 20 mph on the wrong side of the country road, politely wave and point me in the right direction.

America is a frozen tundra.

Our last venture into America 3 years ago.

Our house in Thailand, on the other hand, usually ranges in the mid 80’s to 90’s inside. A few weeks ago I began planning what clothes I would take to the States. I had a hard time convincing myself anyplace (like New Hampshire in January) could REALLY be cold enough to need long pants. When I pictured myself wearing a heavy winter coat, I may have begun to hyperventilate a little. We will be rocking the 90’s clothes when we’re in the States this winter. We’ve had no need for winter clothes here or in our previous home in Florida.

We love America, but our kids may be homesick.

Just one of the friends we will be leaving behind.

On a more serious note, we and our kids will be leaving a lot of good friends behind. We do our best to help our kids understand that they have two homes. But it’s hard for a 3 or 6 year old to think of “home” a place where she doesn’t remember anyone her age. Especially when “home” covers a region thousands of square miles wide. No matter how good of a friend WE think you are, to our children you are legendary strangers that mom and dad talk about in fairy tales. Please, help us fill in that gap. Let them get to know you.

Overall, we are very excited to leave THIS home that we love and go visit THAT home we love.

But please just have grace and patience with us in our awkward third-culture moments. Our faces till look very American, but don’t be fooled. Our minds are part Thai. Thank goodness our true and never-changing home is in heaven. In the meantime, we look forward to seeing how God molds us and teaches us in these next few months as we visit our other earthy abode.

  

Love THAT Neighbor?

It’s been awhile since I’ve blogged. Too much of my computer time these days is spent googling things like “how to get raisins out of a toddler’s nose” and “getting permanent marker off the face.” If you’ve ever lived with a 2 year old, you know what I speak of. But last night (while holding one vomiting child and changing the wet sheets of her sister) I composed a blog in my head. Let us commence.

My excuse for not blogging over the past year.

There’s a 24-hour internet café adjacent to our house. Normally I would like the idea of an internet café so close. But if you are picturing something similar to Starbucks, think again. This café is simply a smelly room crammed with 50 gaming computers. Dozens of teenage boys enter each day to whittle away the hours of their life staring blank-faced at the screen. Many will spend the entire night at the joint, and some will steal money just to support their habit.

The kids emerge from the café from time to time to take a smoke or drug break. Our home, particularly the girl’s play area, fills with smoke and we are awoken by the jarring sounds of revving motorcycles, loud talking, and occasional fighting. The first time my mother visited, the talking was so loud she actually thought the guys were standing in our hallway.

We’ve considered moving, but we love most other things about our house and its location. Instead of leaving, I’ve often prayed that God would shut its doors. I’m ashamed to admit that more times than once on particularly bad nights, I’ve also been tempted to spray pepper spray in the air to try to move the party and smoke farther from our gate.

Last night I was convicted by the Apostle Paul’s approach to trials. In Acts 16, Paul is in jail praying and singing. If I were him, I might be praying for a safe release from prison. But I don’t think that was Paul’s focus. In verse 26, Paul gets his chance. His chains fall off and the doors open. So what does Paul do? Run for comfort and praise God for His blessings? No. He stays and witnesses to the jailer. I wonder if instead of praying for a release from prison, he was focused on how God wanted to use him in the situation. How God wanted to reach others.

My situation is much different. Having loud partiers next door is no comparison to being in jail. But in any troublesome situation, I have two options:

1. Beg God to remove it and give me comfort.
   
   Or
   
2. Seek how God may want to use me to show His love to others.

All too often my prayers and thoughts focus on the first. Give me safe travel. Give me health. Provide for my needs. These aren’t necessarily wrong to pray for. But I’ve been convicted that they shouldn’t be the FOCUS of my relationship with God. We’re not on earth to seek our own comfort and glory. We’re here to love God and love our neighbors. May God give us a heart for the kids next door.