Reverse Culture Shock

So I've always heard that people who work cross-culturally are often most at-home on an airplane. And while I'd say I definitely wouldn't consider an airplane "homey" by any stretch of the imagination, the idea of being enroute from one world to the next, stuck somehow in the in-between (like C.S. Lewis' Woods between Worlds in the Narnia series) can often feel more comfortable than either world.

Laos is my home now and I'm learning the language, loving the food (oh what my stomach wouldn't give for some rice and grilled fish!) and in love with the people.  I love driving a motorbike, endure the helmet hair, the heat and even the ants.  In spite of the differences and difficulties, my heart has become knit to that place. I don't really even understand it myself. But in spite of all that, I don't completely fit it. Nor will I ever completely fit in. When I go shopping in the market, people still stare. When I drive by children walking with their mothers I still hear them yell out, "Falang," which means foreigner in Laos. Yes, thank you for destroying any illusions I might've had about fitting into your society.

I'm in the states for the summer, until September 18th to be exact.  It's been wonderful to be with my family, visit with friends and go to group studies - I'm such a quality time person so I love that.  I'm driving a car for the first time in a year. Wearing shoes everywhere. Went shopping at the mall with mom, Amanda and Isaac - even got some Auntie Ann's which we don't have in Laos. Walked by Dairy Queen in a daze because I feel so strange that many of the foods we dream about in Laos are right here, just a few minutes drive away. But in many ways I feel like I don't fully fit in here either. Granted, there are no children on the streets yelling "foreigner" when I drive by, but in my mind sometimes I hear that label assigned to myself in the place that was home for 27 years.

My stomach is perhaps the most obvious indicator of this - I've been home about 17 days, and I still can't eat normal foods. I've felt sick the entire time being home, and the Taco Bell trips and pizza deliveries I dreamed about in Laos have become a nauseating idea. 

I went to a PI debrief last week and they talked about Reverse Culture Shock which really helped. There's such a great comfort in hearing:  you're not alone. You're not the only one who's felt this way. Perhaps that's why I'm blogging about it.  I need to process and just be honest with the difficulties of living in two worlds. 

I was talking to Sone's mom on skype the other day and in my very childlike Lao language ability I was trying to explain to her how I was feeling. This is a rough translation - It's like I have two hearts now - a Lao heart and an American heart - and they are fighting. She laughed because obviously that sounds silly. I don't really have two hearts, and there's not a real fight going on. But in some ways, it does feel like you are now a divided person. You love two countries, two peoples, two languages, two types of foods, two everything. Loving one doesn't lessen the love for the other, but it does feel like you're always torn, in conflict with yourself. When I'm in Laos, part of me longs for my family, my friends, my Fellowship in the states.  And now that I'm in America, part of me aches for Laos and the friends the Father allowed me to pour into for the past year.

Realizing I'm a pretty emotional person generally, I'm trying to ride the waves of culture shock. It was a rough transition for me to Laos. It's been a rough transition for me back to America. I know myself, and I know I don't deal with transition super well. But one thing, or should I say, One Thing, is always constant. The first morning back home I was singing, tears rolling down my cheeks because of the flood of emotions, and I felt His whisper in my heart...  I never change. I am always the same. I am in Laos and I am in America. And, I am with you, wherever you go. I am your Home.

There's such a temptation when you feel the ache of longing to want to close off your heart to all feeling because it just hurts too much. I've fought that some here - you don't want to connect with those you left back home because you know that leaving them again will hurt too much. And part of me wishes I wouldn't have connected so deeply in Laos and fallen so in love with Lao culture because it wouldn't hurt so much to be away from that.  I think my mom and I are the same in that - the anticipation of the goodbye is often almost enough to keep you from wanting to enjoy the hello and all the time leading up to the goodbye.  It makes me think of this quote by C.S. Lewis:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."


Wow, am I learning that - to love is to be vulnerable. And to be vulnerable often means your heart will hurt, it will ache, but it will love. So, that's where I'm at - trying to learn to love, even when it hurts, and to live well in both worlds, because they both are a part of who Father has made me to be.