How We Are Adjusting

People ask me quite often, “How are you all adjusting?” and I kind of want to say, “As best as can be expected. How are you adjusting?” Because really, we all are adjusting right now, aren’t we? 

An article at A Life Overseas talked about how adjusting to this pandemic feels a lot like culture shock, because we all are trying to learn new ways of living. So I guess you could say that our family is experiencing a double whammy of regular culture shock on top of pandemic culture shock, and it’s hard to separate the two. But all things considered, we are doing okay.

My two younger kids have been able to attend school in person since the beginning of the school year, and the two older kids started entirely online. However, they have had the option of being on campus (socially distanced in the gym or library) to do their distance learning, and we jumped at that opportunity. This was partly for sanity’s sake, since August was not a pretty month in our house and we seriously needed some space from each other, but mainly because it would be the only way for our kids to start making friends. 

The older two recently switched to a hybrid model, so now they are in the classroom some of the time as well. I am extremely thankful for everything our new school has done to try to make this the best possible situation while still staying safe. All the kids have been able to play sports (no games yet, but that’s okay), Lily sings in the choir outdoors with a mask on, and Grace is in extrovert heaven, making a new friend every day. Since they don’t know what a “normal” school year should look like in America, they are happily content with what they’ve got. 

Three of our kids are doing really well, one is not. But it’s hard to know how much of that struggle is due to this transition and how much would have happened anyway. The kids still get wide-eyed about a lot of things: witches as decorations in people’s yards, garage door openers, garbage disposals, Christmas lights, being forced to do their own laundry (I know, America is rough!). They miss Tanzania, talk about it often, and regularly insert Swahili words into their conversations, but they have accepted this life as their reality, as kids are so good at doing. 

We are attending the EFCA church near us, and have been able to attend services outdoors since July. It’s been hard to get connected with all the restrictions, but we’re thankful that at least we can go to church in person. I’ve started volunteering with an after-school program once a week that offers homework assistance to kids from a low-income neighborhood. 

I am slowly getting used to my new job. I enjoy the work I do, but the biggest part of my adjustment is working remotely. After working in a busy, vibrant school for so long, my house feels very quiet. Normally I would have already taken at least one trip to Minnesota by now for candidate interviews and training, but of course, everything is online. Hopefully I will get to go in 2021. 

The little city where we live is beautiful, and I am thankful God brought us to a beautiful place. We are surrounded by mountains which sometimes are covered in snow, though our daytime temperatures rarely are below 60, even now that it’s winter. The homes are historical and exquisite, and many people have lived here for generations. I quite often have the feeling of being on the outside, like I’m crashing their party. No one has deliberately made me feel this way, of course. I think it just comes from being new.

I have been unhappy a lot of the time. Not depressed, not unmotivated, just unhappy. Like, it doesn’t take much to make me cry. I think it’s just the weight of loss. So much loss–my identity as a principal and a missionary, my community, familiarity, feeling competent. But Jesus said that to find your life, you must lose it. So in this emptiness I am looking for new ways to identify with him.

In the midst of the loss we have the special gift of living five minutes away from the Snyders, some of our best-ever friends. How amazing it is to be in this new place and yet still be able to do life with those who intimately know and love our Tanzania-selves. We see them regularly, we babysit (and fight over) their baby a couple of afternoons a week, Lauren and I take morning walks together often, and I pinch myself that we really are living in the same city. How grateful I am for God’s kindness in bringing us together again.

Of course, being near to family is a big reason we came here, so being able to be together for birthdays and holidays, after so many years apart, is wonderful. We are 45 minutes from Gil’s parents and 6 hours away from mine (with a bunch of other extended family in between). The pandemic has kept us from seeing them as much as we would like, but it’s still a lot better than being 10,000 miles away.

Over the years in Tanzania, I walked alongside so many new missionaries in their first months of culture shock. I gave them a shoulder to cry on and would remind them that things will get better; it just takes time. Here I am now, crying in a new place. And I’m telling myself the same thing–some things just take time. But it gets better.