TCKs – Page 6 – A Life Overseas |

How to Help TCKs Manage Probing Questions

Children think in concrete, specific terms: black and white, true and false. As parents, we train them to tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” What could be wrong with that? I don’t want to raise liars, and I’m sure you don’t either.

But sometimes, when you live overseas, the whole truth isn’t safe. Sometimes the whole truth can get you thrown in jail or kicked out of the country. Government officials, overly-nosy teachers, and prejudiced locals know that children are predisposed to oversharing, and they will exploit it. Any number of innocent security breaches is also possible. While we can’t plan for everything, and while God certainly protects us even through such breaches, we quickly grasp the need to guard our tongues at all times. It’s hard enough for adults, but our concrete-thinking children struggle even more.

My husband and I took two pre-schoolers to just such a place, and we grappled with this conundrum the entire time we lived there. How do we train our children to be completely honest while protecting the work to which God has called us overseas?

When we returned to our passport country, I breathed a sigh of relief—finally, they wouldn’t have to watch everything they shared. Then they started public school. The questions rained down: Where did you live? What did you do? Why did you go there? Were you missionaries? The “whole truth” answers still weren’t safe because we left behind teammates and local believers, people whose security depended on our silence.

Eight years into this question, I finally have an honest, Biblically-sound, God-honoring answer. You ready? Here it is: Jesus didn’t always tell the whole truth. We find one example in Mark 11, where the religious leaders asked Jesus about the source of His authority. Jesus didn’t answer. Instead, he asked them a question. Repeatedly—not just here but throughout the Gospels—Jesus deflects questions or gives partial answers. At the same time, we know that He never lied. Sometimes His listeners (even the disciples) just weren’t ready to comprehend the full answer; sometimes it was a security or timing issue. Honesty isn’t always about a complete, straight-forward divulgence of all the Truth available.

We are in good company when we train our children (and ourselves!) to answer according to the audience. This means we must stay connected to the Holy Spirit, who sees not only our hearts but the hearts of those around us. In every situation, we take a breath and pray, “What does this person need to hear?” Our answer will be completely honest, but perhaps not complete.

Thankfully, we don’t have to wait until our children learn to heed the Holy Spirit before we let them interact with the public. Regardless of a child’s spiritual maturity, these three guidelines will help him or her deal with the frequent and repeated questions—both overseas and in your passport country.

Have an always-safe answer. This should be one sentence that is completely true, usually involving your platform.

My dad is a doctor.

My parents teach at ____________ school.

My mom works for ____________ relief agency.

Have a deflection statement. Children need this so they won’t appear rude when questioned by adults. It usually works to say, “You should ask my mom/dad about that.”

Have a time for full disclosure. If it means taking a vacation to another country or going out into the woods where no one is around…

(a) Give your children a chance to talk about all the reasons you live in the place and manner to which God has called you. This will not be a one-time occurrence. We created opportunities for this conversation over and over as the children grew in mental and spiritual understanding.

(b) Give them an opportunity to name all the people who have asked probing questions and talk about how they responded. Assure them that you trust them and that everyone lapses or makes poor decisions occasionally. This is not a time for discipline but for training. If you learn about any security problems, you can take measures to contain or thwart them.

If—no, when—you or your children struggle with how to answer questions about your presence in-country, go to the Gospels. Show them stories about how Jesus dealt with questions and help them get comfortable with honest answers that won’t lead anyone awry.

What strategies have you used to deal with non-disclosure? Were they effective? Please share in the comments below.

Carole Sparks and her husband twice found themselves “walking Jesus” in coastal African cities—the second time with two small children. Now, they are watching God work in a mid-sized southern US city and helping others learn to follow Him more closely. Connect with Carole through her website, http://carolesparks.com or her parenting blog, http://notaboutme1151parenting.wordpress.com.

10 Questions Missionary Kids Dread

Ever talked to an MK before? Did you wonder why we looked a little lost? Why we tend to give people confused looks all of the time? Yeah. As an MK myself, I can say with confidence: we’re an odd bunch. Guilty as charged! But there’s more to the story than you might think.

You see, MKs are usually asked many questions about our lives overseas. Although these well-intended questions are asked out of genuine friendliness, curiosity, and a desire to connect, a few can be extremely difficult to answer. Here are the top 10 questions MKs dread:

Question #1“Aren’t you glad to be home?”

On the bright side, MKs have many homes we love dearly. On the not-so-bright side, MKs never know where home actually is. It’s complicated. Hence our blank expressions mixed with terror when confronted with this daunting question. Are we supposed to pick one? Do our homes across the ocean not count?

We are typically struck with this realization when ‘home’ assignment isn’t turning out how we envisioned. Permanently wrinkled clothes. Too many road trips in a ridiculously-short amount of time. A diet consisting mainly of the huge boxes of Wendy’s chicken nuggets purchased by sleep-deprived, currency-confused, mega-sized missionary families. Life is crazy. We recognize once again that our home country doesn’t feel like home anymore.

Question #2 “Do you remember me? I held you when you were 6 months old!”

MKs desperately want to avoid sounding rude, but our diaper-clad years are pretty vague. Especially when being held by 300 different people at eight different churches in five different states was our reality. Faces tend to blur after a while. Especially at six months old and/or long gaps between home-country visits.

Once, a dear older couple invited my family to their home for dinner. I none-too-geniously doubted I had ever met them. Then I saw our prayer card faithfully stuck on their fridge and blushed bright red. Oops.

Question #3 “Where do you buy your clothes?”

Missionaries aren’t usually applauded for their awesome fashion sense. But on occasion, we find ourselves accidentally wearing something not three years behind the current trend. I have these crazy-patterned bohemian pants I purchased in Chiang Mai at a night market. They’re faded and stretched, but they tend to attract attention. Once, a girl enthusiastically asked me where I purchased them.

“Thailand…” I answered. She stared at me, alarmed by the fact that she would have to fly thirteen hours to purchase them. MKs’ wardrobes are usually furnished in more than one country (or even continent!) It happens.

Question #4 “How’s insert host country?”

Politically? Economically? Agriculturally? Socially? Spiritually? Personally? MKs have been asked all of the above! This is why I always try to avoid the professor-looking gentlemen with big glasses and grey sweaters at church visits. They are unfailingly interested in the population of Japan (my host country). I looked it up in preparation for my family’s last home assignment. But then I forgot.

Question #5 “Have you made a million friends?”

Well. Do my siblings count?

In truth, siblings are usually the only steady source of friendship MKs have. Chances are, we haven’t made a million friends in our host country. It’s painful to admit, especially when that is what’s expected of us. Language barriers and cultural differences make friendships difficult to bridge. Friendships with teammates are can end abruptly as families change location or ministry. Coupled with the realization that many of our former friends in our home country have moved on—most MKs are actually seeking friendships.

Question #6 “Can you say something in Chinese?

Yup. Chinese. Totally not dependent on what country we actually live in.

Question #7 “Don’t you love listening to your parent’s presentations?”

The first sixty times? Yes! Now? We hear them in our dreams. Seriously, no joke.

A few years ago, my family and I visited a friend’s small group to present about our ministry in Japan. My sister and I wanted to play outside. All the other kids wanted to listen to our parent’s presentation. We stared at them like they were crazy. Really?

Question #8 “Do you eat bugs?”

This question wins the “most-frequently asked” award. Actually, I don’t eat bugs on a regular basis! But, yes, a lot of MKs do. I eat raw fish, squid, and octopus weekly, though. (That tends to still illicit the same response.)

Once, my friend went to a store in her host country to purchase a kitten. She picked the smallest, cutest, furriest one and handed it to the shop owner with her summer savings. He smiled, picked up the kitten, broke its neck, and gave it back to her in a paper bag for dinner. She ran home crying, “Mommy! Mommy! I didn’t want to eat Fluffy!”

Question #9 “Have you had fun over there?”

I love living overseas. But it is not a vacation! It’s life. Normal, mundane, regular life. Math tests, grocery-shopping, and room-cleaning still apply to MKs too. Just under different circumstances. Possibly without air-conditioning. Possibly without beds. Probably without a dryer.

But that’s okay. The only time I wished for a dryer was when I put on a freshly-washed shirt straight from the clothes rack and found a beetle crawling up my sleeve. I probably wouldn’t have categorized that experience as fun.

Question #10 “Are you going to be a missionary when you grow up?”

What if someone asked you, “What’s your dad’s job? A doctor? Oh. Then you’re going to be a doctor too, right?”

“I don’t know!” you might reply.

I don’t know either. But I do know that I want to follow God’s call for my life, wherever that may be.

The next time you talk to an MK? Recognize they might feel lonely and insecure despite their nonchalant façade. Ask “how are you?” instead of “where are you from?” Give them a smile and a hug.

And to MKs, the next time you are asked one of these 10 questions? Smile. Recognize that they are asked out of a desire to understand and connect. Love back by engaging … even through these ever-dreaded questions.

Taylor Murray is a 17-year-old missionary kid serving with her family in Hiroshima, Japan. Author of Hidden in My Heart: A TCK’s Journey Through Cultural Transition, she is passionate about supporting TCKs and their families through her writing. Visit her blog at taylorjoyinwords.com.

My Kids Are Not Little Missionaries

We don’t go into cross cultural missions without a fair degree of idealism. We would never leave our home, family, friends and culture if we didn’t think it was our calling and that we would make a difference. As parents, our children become part of that idealism. We can’t help having expectations and dreams of how our kids will be shaped by an amazing cross cultural experience. As I look back over the years, I can see how my ideals didn’t line up so well with our family reality. For me, growth has included embracing a continual lowering of expectations and perhaps a little more acceptance of being who we are.

My sons are now 19 and 17. As a family we are about to leave SE Asia for a season to help them settle, or become unsettled (depending on how it goes), back into our passport country. They were born in our passport country and moved with my husband and me to SE Asia at the ages of 4 and 6.

We had already spent 3 years in that country before they were born and had a reasonable grasp of the language. We wanted to go deeper this time. I imagined us becoming a culturally-integrated and truly incarnational family, making a profound impact by our deep identification with the people. We somehow thought that immersing our kids into the culture would be easy even though our own previous experience of living in that culture had been extremely challenging. So many people had told us that kids are incredibly adaptable and resilient. They teased that our boys would soon be much more fluent in the language than we were and love all the new experiences. It didn’t work out like that for us.

It’s easy to see things clearer in hindsight. At the time it seemed like a good idea to please our local friends by placing our boys in a national school of 6,000 students, where our children were the only little blond foreigners that the school had ever had. That was the beginning of an exhausting and painful inner struggle that felt like a tug-of-war in my guts. I was torn between what was best for my kids (helping them grow, learn, and be stretched, but still protected) and doing whatever it took to build relationships with local people and feel accepted by them.

We did come up with a strategy, after a few disastrous experiences, for how our kids could avoid being touched, kissed and pinched by strangers, or teachers who should know better, and still maintain some level of respectfulness. We made it clear to them that snarling like a rabid dog as adults approach is not OK. But giving the formal greeting of hands in front of the face and then running off before they can touch you is usually acceptable.

There were many days out visiting in a village where after several hours of intense connecting with local kids I could see my boys were just about to reach that point of things getting ugly. They were exhausted from the cross cultural relating, and it was in all our interests to leave NOW. Again I felt the inner wrenching of being torn by the desire to stay and go deeper with our local relationships and ministry and giving our kids what they needed.

I now see how children have culture shock and culture stress like we all do, and they don’t just adapt because they are kids. They react according to their personality and a myriad of other factors that can be hard to identify or predict. They need support and acknowledgement of their struggles. We came to realize that although we really valued local relationships and knew they were key to our ministry, our relationship with our kids was the one that would last a life time. That was our top priority. That didn’t mean life was all about them, or we never expected them to learn patience and self-control. It did mean that we wanted them to know we were always there for them and were trying to make the best decisions we could for us as a family, trusting that God was in it all with us. One time this meant relocating to a city where they could attend international school, quite a change and unsettling for our ministry, but definitely the best decision for us as a family.

When the boys were 12 and 14, we moved to another country in SE Asia with a different language and culture. This time I accepted from the beginning that it was the international community that would be their life. My husband and I went to language school again, and they went to an international school. After five years they have friends from all over the world but only speak enough local language to tell directions to a Tuk Tuk (local taxi) driver. They have not gone to a local church or become friends with the local neighbors. But they do have a supportive school community. They can get around the city independently and are fully engaged in the international church and youth group. I’m more than content with that.

My kids are definitely TCKs, although they don’t like to be labeled as such because, like most of us, they just don’t like being labeled. They are TCKs who connect deepest with other TCKs but they are also their own persons. They have their own experiences of being a TCK and don’t necessarily tick every box on the ‘you know you are a TCK when’ list. They may not have connected very deeply with this culture we live in but that is OK and I really like them.

Sometimes parents of younger children who know my boys and see how they are usually pretty comfortable relating to other kids and adults ask me something like “What are your parenting tips for TCKs?” I don’t think I have anything to offer that is different from what you would read in any quality parenting book. I naturally think my sons are great, but I believe that has more to do with who they are than anything my husband or I did or didn’t do. We made plenty of mistakes. There have been many influences in their lives. If I believe that they are great young people because of my incredible parenting, then I am setting myself up for some difficult days ahead. If they start making decisions I am unhappy about does that mean I really messed up as a parent? We really don’t have that much control. I’m grateful that God leads us all on a journey of grace and healing, our kids included.

Accepting who we are and who my kids are means being willing to not hold too tightly to certain definitions or ideals. It means being open to things being a little fuzzy for a while and different from what we expected, and that can be hard. It means letting our kids be the people they are becoming and letting go of a desire to make them into any kind of extension of ourselves. Yes, we have been in this cross cultural life together as a family and we are all shaped by that, but they are not little missionaries. They are themselves. And I really like them.

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My name is Rachael from Australia. Before having children, my husband and I served in Thailand for three years, working with people living with leprosy and other disabilities. After a significant time back in our home country we returned with our two sons for another five years of working with the Thai national church. We later moved to Cambodia and served in team leadership with our mission for five and a half years. Our boys have done Thai national schooling, home schooling, Australian government schooling, and both Christian and secular international schooling. They will soon be university students in Australia and more importantly, they are still talking to us.

Failing at Fatherhood (how moving abroad ruined my parenting)

I sat on the floor, weeping.

I was two whole days into living abroad, and I was already losing it.

Those tears portended more, and in our first year overseas, the thing that knocked me down the most, the thing that discouraged and distracted and depressed me the most, was the sense that I was failing at fatherhood.

I loved being a dad. It was a very core part of my identity, and something I really cherished. Moving to Cambodia, I had expected cross-cultural stress. I had expected transition tension and unmet expectations. I had even expected conflict with other missionaries and nationals. But I never thought I’d feel like my identity as a father was being shredded up and burned in the furnace of a cross-cultural move. That was a surprise.

Have you ever felt that? Like living abroad was changing your parenting in a not-so-positive way?

We moved overseas when our boys were six and seven and our girls were one and three.

I suppose my fathering style could have been characterized as, um, B I G. I loved playing with our kids in wide open spaces, throwing things, kicking things, climbing things. We played loud and we took up a lot of space, and that’s how we liked it.

And then we moved to a concrete box with bars on the windows in an urban capital of a developing country. No grass. No yard. No large spaces.

For me, the shift from wide open spaces to urban jungle was rough. I had to adjust, but first I got depressed. Often, it’d happen on a Saturday; I’d wake up just wanting to go outside and throw a football with my kids.

And with the clarity of thought that overwhelms at times like this, I felt like I had moved from a garden to a prison. A prison that was 95 degrees and thick with humidity!

I had traded acres of green for walls of grey. En Gedi for Sheol.

I watched my kids hang from metal bars on windows when they used to hang from giant limbs on oaks. They were happy, but I was dying.

I missed being able to step outside and kick a soccer ball. I missed our fire pit on cold autumn nights. I missed our porch swing. I missed our yard. I missed the way I used to father.

But thank God the story doesn’t end there, with a depressed dad missing what once was. No, the story definitely doesn’t end there…

The Dawn
Slowly, I began to realize a few things. First, I still needed to play with my kids, and second, I could still play with my kids. That sounds silly, I know, but in the haze of transition, this realization wasn’t a given.

I knew things had changed; I knew I had lost some stuff. I needed to grieve that loss well and figure out how to adjust and bend and change too. Basically, what I needed was some creativity, a little bit-o-crazy, and the willingness to spend cash.

And so it began.

I penciled in a “man trip” to a national park an hour outside of the city. I took the boys and we hiked and wrestled and joked and ate junk food. It was glorious.

I was invited to speak in Beijing. The boys tagged along (thanks in part to the honorarium), and we walked Tiananmen Square and the Great Wall. We ate at McDonald’s. A lot. The younger one navigated the subway system, and “a clear day” took on a whole new meaning.

I took the girls on a staycation. We got a hotel outside of town, stayed up late, and swam a lot. Of course, we also ate junk food. (Don’t tell mom.)

We started Nerf wars, using multiple levels of our row house, with intense battles taking place over the “eagle’s nest” position on the top floor. Best vantage point and all.

I bought a ping-pong table and crammed it in a corner. One side has two feet of clearance, so we use the walls and ceilings as extensions of the table. That table provides lots of “play time” that my kids enjoy and I need. Does that sound weird? It’s true. I need to play with my kids.

Rainy season hit our town, flooding the streets up to our knees. I yelled at the kids to get on the moto and we plowed through the water, making a giant wake with our urban jet ski. Neighbors laughed at the crazy white guy with three little kids screeching with delight in monsoon rains. In America, we’d find a snow-filled parking lot and drift in our van. Here, we find a flooded street and pretend we’re on a lake! Same Same (but different).

We play “air hockey” on the tile floors, using wooden blocks as pucks and plastic cups as the hand-held hitter things. We use Lego men to play table football. We put a badminton set on the flat roof, supposing that a birdie falling from forty feet would do less damage than a volleyball.

We rent a soccer field for $7/hour to throw a Frisbee or a football. I don’t feel guilty spending the money. In America, we didn’t have to rent the park.

We go “cliff jumping” at the Olympic Stadium pool. My six-year-old actually chipped her tooth jumping from the five meter platform. I was so proud of her. (Don’t tell grandma.)

My youngest daughter loves motorcycles. She wraps her little five-year-old fingers around the handlebar and yells “Faster, Papa! Faster!”

We have disco lights in the bathroom. Long story.

Practically Speaking
So, here’s what helped me through this particular parenting crisis. Maybe these will help you too.

1. Be Creative. Early on in transition, creativity is very hard to come by. You’re exhausted and on the edge already. So ask around. Ask other parents, “What do you do for family time here? Where?” Just remember, what works for one family might not work for your family. That’s OK. Find the things that work for your family, and then do those things. Boldly.

2. Be Crazy. The Cambodians think we’re crazy, and maybe they’re right. Maybe I am crazy, but I’m also not depressed. Are you willing to look a bit weird? (Wait, you’re a missionary, what am I saying?!) But seriously, are you? Your survival might depend on it.

3. Spend Cash. If you need to spend some money to share a fun experience with your family, spend it. And don’t feel guilty about it. Now, if you feel like God doesn’t want you to spend it, then don’t. But if you’re afraid of spending money because of what your donors might think, that’s a pretty good reason to go ahead and spend it. Don’t let your kids grow up thinking that the most important question when discussing a family activity is, “What will our supporters think?” That question has killed many missionaries, and their children.

One Day
My kids still make fun of me for crying in those early days. Thing is, I don’t think they realize I was crying for them; I thought I had lost them. I thought I had lost me. One day they’ll know.

One day they’ll grow up and read this, and when they do, I hope they know how very much I loved being their dad.

In America,
In Asia, and
Anywhere else in
This whole wide world.

Resources for Parenting Abroad

3 Ways to Care for the Heart of Your Third Culture Kid

To the Parents of Third Culture Kids

One Down, Three to Go

Five Longings of a TCK’s Heart

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Have you ever felt this? Like living abroad was changing your parenting in a not-so-positive way?

How did you deal with it? How are you dealing with it?

What would you add to the “Practically Speaking” section? It doesn’t have to start with a C (but extra points if it does).

The Psalms: A Reentry Handbook

By Robynn Bliss

I remember hanging suspended upside down inside a squished cab of a pick up truck alongside the road. The ambulance arrived, and two paramedics stuck their heads in from either side of the cab. They told us they would have us out in no time, they inquired as to how we were doing, and then they asked if there was anyone they could call for us. We grimaced and glanced at each other. Ethel had grown up in Brazil, Denise’s parents were in Nigeria, and mine remained obliviously out of reach in Pakistan. There was no one to call.

The summer before I had watched, with that horrible sinking feeling, my parents board the plane to return to Pakistan. I was of age. I had crossed that dreaded line that meant that I no longer went with them. I was stuck in Canada, far from them, far from my childhood, far from everything I had ever known. I was alone.

It wasn’t entirely true. I wasn’t technically alone. My parents had figured out a plan for that first summer without them. I had people to stay with, a church to attend, and I knew where I would be going once summer was over. I had relatives that loved me. There were plenty of well-meaning people to look out for me, and yet deep inside there was a place that shook with the reality that I was really on my own.

I cried a lot that summer. I grieved adulthood thrust upon me. I ached for my parents and the stability they brought. I missed Pakistan and the familiar, my boarding school and all my chums. My loneliness was so profound it nearly swallowed me whole. It was thick and tangible.

During this time Jesus reminded me again of the Psalms. David often was separated from his family, his friends, his safety, his childhood, his familiar. He was often on the run, living out of a suitcase: a transient, a wanderer (a TCK?). He was no stranger to separation and grief. Many of his journal entries reflect that. He wrote things like: “Morning, noon, and night I cry out in my distress and the Lord hears my voice”(Ps 54:16), “You keep track of all my sorrows” (Ps 56:8), “Come with great power, O God and rescue me! (Ps 54:1), “for you have seen my troubles and you care about the anguish of my soul” (Ps 31:7).

In the midst of David’s pain and uncertainty he knew that God was his fortress and his protector, his helper. He understood that God loved him deeply and that God was with him in the midst of all the sadness. “The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Thou they stumble, they will never fall for the Lord holds them by the hand” (Ps 37:23). ”Unfailing love surrounds those who trust the Lord” (Ps 32:10). I found comfort and camaraderie in reading David’s poems, his songs, his journal. He seemed to understand. He seemed confident that God would be with me too. It became my life line. During those first 2 years back I read nothing from scripture except the Psalms! David mentored me through reentry. He taught me how to depend on God in the midst of suffering and separation.

One day I was driving my little car across the Canadian prairie. Suddenly and for no apparent reason (I mean I wasn’t out of gas and there did appear to be oil in the car!), it quit! I had no idea what to do. I pulled to the side of the road and thought about my dad. My dad would know what to do! My dad had probably told me what to do at some point but I couldn’t remember what that was. And to complicate what always seemed already like a complicated life, my dad was off in Pakistan! I opened the hood and stood over it. The tears started running down my face. I felt the separation that was such a reality. And then I did what my mentor David taught me to do: I cried out to God. God if you are the Good Shepherd –the Expert on Sheep, and the Great Physician – the Expert on me…surely you know something about cars. Will you please come to my rescue? Will you please fix this stupid car?? I closed the hood, got back in behind the steering wheel and turned the key. It worked! God had fixed my car. God had been my Heavenly Mechanic, my Nearby Holy Dad. He had stepped in and helped me.

The reality of His nearness waxed and waned during those early years. Often God through His tender Spirit eased the pain of the separation and He was my helper! Other times it was still so very hard and I missed my parents and their expertise on living very keenly.

“O Lord you alone are my hope. I’ve trusted you, O Lord, from childhood. Yes, you have been with me… My life is an example to many, because you have been my strength and protection…. O God don’t stay away. My God, please hurry to help me… I will keep on hoping for your help. I will praise you more and more…. O God you have taught me from my earliest childhood, and I constantly tell others about the wonderful things you do…. Let me proclaim your power to this new generation, your mighty miracles to all who come after me…”Ps 71: 5-18

(Previously published on Communicating Across Boundaries and in Traveling Without Baggage, a Christar publication.)

Robynn Bliss is a proud Canadian who spent her childhood in Pakistan, married an American, and went on to live, work, and raise a family in India. She is co-author of the book Expectations and Burnout:Women Surviving the Great Commission and writes at Communicating Across Boundaries every Friday.

A Conversation With Timothy Sanford, Author of “I Have to be Perfect”

The last four months we’ve been exploring the ideas in Timothy Sanford’s book “I Have to be Perfect” (and other Parsonage Heresies). Here are the first four posts if you need a refresher:

The Little Word that Frees Us

“I’m Not Supposed to Have Needs”

“I Can’t Trust Anyone”

“God is Disappointed in Me”

Today we’ll conclude our series with an interview with Timothy himself. My questions and comments are in bold. Also stay tuned for his book to become more accessible for overseas workers this summer, when it will be published electronically.

Timothy, thank you so much for sharing your wisdom with us here at A Life Overseas. I know this conversation will bless our online community. You grew up as an MK. Can you give us a little background about where you lived as a child?

“Where I grew up” is a hard question for many MKs—and even PKs these days—to answer. My birth certificate and passport indicate I was born in Chicago, Illinois (many think Chicago is a foreign country). The back of a 1957 Chevy got very comfortable while my parents did deputation. They were in Costa Rica for language school and finally landed in Ecuador.

Back State side, my parents did their “re-entry transitioning” (which did not even exist back in those days) in Ohio. We then moved to Texas (which self-claims to be a “whole different world”) where they did missionary work in Mexico and taught at Rio Grande Bible Institute.

We moved back to Ohio so my dad could take a preacher job (which didn’t work out) and finally landed in Arizona where I became a SEK (Secular Employee’s Kid, which some people pronounce “sick”).

You’ve been a licensed professional counselor for how many years now?

I’ve been in practice as a Licensed Professional Counselor for 26 years with experience in private practice, a Residential Treatment Center for youth, and an In-patient psychiatric hospital.

Is there anything specific that prompted you to enter counseling as a profession?

It was my wife’s idea really. We were leaving Eagle Lake Camp (part of The Navigators organization), so I went back to school (to buy some time to figure out what I was going to do next in life). At that time the field of psychology was lab rats, long white coats and weird men with ponytails. My goal was to receive the counseling skills and use them in ministry somewhere overseas. I did my required internship in a private practice setting and have been in practice ever since. Yes, the “God does work in mysterious ways” cliché fits.

From your vantage point, what things have changed, and what things have remained constant, in missionary and ministry culture these past 3 or 4 decades? How are the experiences of today’s PKs and MKs different from a few decades ago, and how are they the same?

Today there is more information and attention that on the subject of MK/TCKs. Out of that came MK Member Caregiver staff people and Re-entry seminars/retreats for transitioning MKs.

The internet, Skype, and better international calling services help MKs keep connected with the MKs they know from the field, as well as being a forum to connect with other like-minded MK/TCKs. That’s all good.

When my parents were sent off to the field they were told “You’re a missionary and God will take care of your kids. Ministry first.” That mantra is no longer outwardly stated; however, the tone in missions these days is “You’re a missionary (parents) and the MK Member Caregiver staff will tend to your kids’ needs. Ministry is still (unofficially, of course) first.” Even with all the increased attention and information on cross-cultural issues, many MKs still get pushed into second or third place.

I’ve interpreted this book through my own personal experiences: a TCK but not a PK, a missionary but not an MK, an adult who entered ministry young but did not grow up in it, and a parent raising 4 children who are all PKs, MKs, and TCKs. But you wrote this book to PKs, not to their parents. I’m wondering what kind of advice you’d give to parents of MKs and PKs? So much of the time as a parent, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. I’d love your input on that. What kind of conversations would you recommend having with our children?

Since you’re the missionary parent asking this question that’s a great start.

The way I try to describe the difference between the missionary and the MK is this way: Let’s say America is the color RED and Ecuador is the color YELLOW. You are a RED brain (it’s your paradigm, it’s your passport country) adjusting to a YELLOW culture. You make paradigm adjustments to your RED brain. But, when you mix RED with YELLOW (the culture the MK/TCK grows up in) you get ORANGE. That’s not RED adapting to YELLOW, it’s ORANGE. It’s an entirely different color. It’s an entirely different paradigm all together. Poof! You have the TCK world.

Your world as the missionary is not the same as the MK’s world for several reasons:

Your MK didn’t get to choose to do missionary work to foreign peoples.
It isn’t your MK’s “calling” either.
You have adult skills (I hope) with which to manage the stresses, struggles and complications of an inter-cultural environment. Your MK only has child-level coping skills. Many adults (not just missionaries) don’t stop to think about the limited coping skills their children have. This is especially true if you are stationed in a potentially hostile region. You have the adult understandings of the “chances” and “odds” of things happening – or not happening. The MK mostly hears the “what can go wrong.” It can be especially terrifying for younger children.
Be attuned to the world from the MK’s perspective and realize the “Holy Heresies” are very likely to grow inside their brains even if you’re not the one putting those lies there. MKs—and especially PKs—have 100 dads and 150 moms. Remember: the mission agency, the denomination, the church people and the secular environment you live in impacts your MK a whole lot more than you may think. Sometimes these external “voices” are as influential as your own voice; frustrating, yet true.

Accept the possibility you may need to choose your MK over your “ministry,” at least for a number of years. I don’t wish this on any family, yet as the missionary parent, it’s a harsh “reality of the job” you need to accept.

The “harsh reality of the job” — that’s an intriguing statement. Could you elaborate on it?

What I’m trying to say is there may come a time when the parent is faced with the tough decision between staying on the field to do “ministry” or returning/staying home because it is in the best interest of a child. There have been several families that I recommended for the sake of the child(ren) they not continue on the field.

That is a VERY difficult and painful decision to make, and that position of facing that decision is what I hope no family has to face. It’s just hard for everyone in the family. Yes, it is a matter of prioritizing and making sure the MK comes out on top of the “ministry.” Part of what makes this so hard is most missionaries I know are passionate about their calling (and rightfully so), so to CHOOSE to put it aside for a while is very painful for them (again, and rightfully so).

On the flip side, I think some missionary families don’t reach out for family help because they are afraid they will be told they can’t continue their ministry/return to the field. The missionary parents often come in with an all-or-nothing thinking: ministry or suffer State-side. I have successfully worked with a number of families where other options actually worked out very well. Again, it’s a case by case situation, but for the missionary, it’s important to realize there may be more options available other than go or stay.

Accepting the reality that your family may NOT thrive, or even belong, overseas is something very few missionaries consider. Yet it’s true. My recommendation to potential missionaries is: are they truly willing (not just in theory willing) to NOT go or NOT return to the field if that is what is best for their family. If NOT … my recommendation is to not send that family to the field in the first place. That’s what I mean by: “…it’s a harsh “reality of the job” you need to accept.”

Again, if the missionary parents are not aware of this reality, they can become very broken and maybe even bitter if one of their children “kept” them “from doing God’s work” … which is really THEIR own work as well as their identity. Too many missionary personnel I’ve met have made “ministry” and “missionary” their IDENTITY over what they are doing. If this type of missionary can’t return to “their work” it can actually create an identity crisis that can bring all sorts of complications such as depression, etc. It’s a HUGE topic that I have not heard mentioned at all in the few missionary circles I’m clued into. It may actually be worth another post or series for you to think about doing.

High school graduation time is upon us. How would you describe your re-entry into American life as a young adult, and what advice would you give for MKs/TCKs preparing to re-enter their passport country, especially from a counselor’s perspective? What advice would you give their parents for helping guide them in the transition?

I know about transitions. All in all, I attended six different schools before completing the 8th grade and lived in 26 different places before graduating from high school. You know, the normal stuff for MKs. So here are my suggestions:

Make good use of your R.A.F.T.
Attend a transition weekend. Many mission agencies provide these nowadays as well as organizations such as Interact, etc. They really can help.
Keep connected with other TCK friends via internet, etc.
If possible, attend a university that has a high population of international students. There is a good chance you will meet other TCKs there.
Remember what these four phrases really mean:

“Let’s get together …” really means “good bye.”

“I’ll call you …” really means “good bye.”

“Give me a call …” really means “good bye.”

“We’ll be in touch …” really means “good bye.”

If your agency had an MK Caregiver staff or person, get to know them and keep in contact. I’ve met a number of MK Caregivers and they all want to help (they’re good at it too). And if you don’t know what R.A.F.T. stands for, ask your MK Caregiver; he or she will know.

Is there anything you’d like to add to what you’ve said in the book? Perhaps something new you’ve learned since you originally wrote it, that’s burning on your heart?

Since writing “I Have to be Perfect,” I have done a lot of research on the subject of attachment child to parent. In doing so, I realize there can very easily be attachment issues within a missionary family. In 2003 I presented a workshop at the World Reunion 2003 (for TCKs not just MKs) on the topic of attachment. They had me do the workshop two additional times because nearly all the attendees wanted to attend that workshop. As I did so, I did an unofficial, unscientific experiment. At the end of all three workshops I asked for written “yes” or “no” response on a small piece of paper stating whether the attachment issues presented fit them. To my surprise, nearly 80% of the attendees at the World Reunion 2003 indicated they had significant attachment issues in their life. It was this gathering that got me started on studying the attachment dynamic and how growing up as an MK/TCK can impact attachment.

For about nine years now I’ve been working on a manuscript on this subject and I’m glad to share INSIDE: Understanding How Reactive Attachment Disorder Thinks and Feels will be released in eBook form early summer 2015 through LifEdvice.com. Had I known then what I know now, I would have added at least some of this to “I Have to be Perfect.” Oh well, I guess people will just have to order the eBook (which will sell for $4.99 I believe).

Oh and since I’m talking about eBooks being released, “I Have to be Perfect” is also coming out in eBook format through the same publisher (LifEdvice.com) early this summer as well—and it will be cheaper too! Again, I think it will be $4.99.

Thank you so much, Tim, for taking the time to answer all these questions and share your hard-won wisdom with us. I know people will really appreciate how practical this advice is.

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A Life Overseas community, do you have any questions for Tim? He’ll be available to answer your questions in the comment section until Sunday, May 31.

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Tim Sanford holds an M.A. in Psychology, a B.A. in Bible and a B.S. in Outdoor Recreation. He is licensed by the State of Colorado as a Licensed Professional Counselor and is an ordained minister. He has received further training in areas of communication, trauma response and debriefing and experiential education.

Tim’s background includes being raised in South America; many years of involvement in his home church (including interim College Pastor); and being the Director of the wilderness camping ministry for The Navigators, an international, interdenominational Christian organization. He currently runs a private counseling practice in Colorado Springs that focuses on adolescents, adults and marriage. In addition to his practice, Tim is a full-time member of the counseling staff at Focus on the Family.

He has published many articles in the United States, Germany and South Africa. He is the author of “I Have to be Perfect” (And Other Parsonage Heresies), a book intended for preachers’ kids, co-authored Growing Pains: Advice for Parents of Teenagers and Losing Control and Liking It, a book for parenting teenagers published by Focus on the Family/Tyndall Publishing. Tim’s most recent work INSIDE: Understanding How Reactive Attachment Disorder Thinks and Feels is scheduled to be released early summer, 2015, In total, his works have been translated into seven different languages.

He has been married to Becky since 1981 and they have two married daughters. They currently call Colorado Springs, Colorado their home. Tim has spoken at numerous conferences over the years, for many kinds of gatherings, workshops and seminars; national and local.

God Can Heal Our Broken Potatoes

A beautiful, healing post from Chris Bowman, an Adult Third Culture Kid (ATCK) who returned to one of his host countries for a couple years to work with middle school and high school TCKs.

One night we asked our middle schoolers, “What’s the hardest thing someone could ask you to do?” Here are some of their answers:

Walk in a pool of custard. (I agree.)
Eat something fermented.
Read for a long period of time.
Kill someone. (…good to know)
Run around school naked.
Do homework.
Walk without hands or legs.
Say goodbye to my best friend.

Thankfully most of the above are things that they will never be asked to do — that is, except for saying goodbyes. Unfortunately, it is one of the most painful downsides to being a Third Culture Kid (TCK).

It gets to a point where no matter where you are in the world, you are always away from people you care about. According to some research, by the time a TCK is in their early 20′s, they have experienced more grief from goodbyes than most adults experience in a lifetime. As a TCK myself, that sounds pretty accurate.

It wasn’t until I moved back to Australia for university that I noticed that life in our home countries isn’t quite as transient. I spent four years not having to say goodbye to the people around me. So this is what’s it like to have consistency? Huh?

I said so many more goodbyes in the two years I was back in Cambodia than in the four years I was in Adelaide. This is just part of the TCK experience.

As we opened up the discussion with our middle-schoolers, we asked them the simple question – “Who have you had to say goodbye to?” Best friends. Favorite aunts. Pets. Siblings.

For some, their last goodbyes were just that – last goodbyes. They never got to say goodbye to a dying loved one. They didn’t get to sneak in a last hug with their sick dog. The goodbyes hurt, and they make them angry, and they make them sad.

And with that one question, it wasn’t long before something triggered, and an ocean of emotions was let out. Tears that had been held back a long time were let out. They each understood each other’s pain and found a safe space to share those emotions.

We had a plan for that night – we quickly threw it out the window. God had a better plan.

To kick off the night, we had cut up potatoes, and then sent teams out to find the pieces. Once they had done so, they then had to put their potatoes back together with toothpicks.

It worked – kinda. Sure, the toothpicks held the potatoes together, but the potato wasn’t healed; it was just a bunch of potato pieces, stuck together. We do the same thing. We try to keep our broken hearts and lives together. We hold on for dear life and try our best to keep everything from falling apart.

All our hurt. All our disappointment. All our failures. We just try and hold it together so that maybe we can convince the world that we’re not really broken potatoes.

The truth is – only God can heal our broken potatoes. We can try, and most of us do. But we will never succeed. God made your potato and only God can heal your potato.

Chris Bowman is a twenty-something who has grown up across Australia, Uganda, and Cambodia. He has a Bachelor of Media, is studying a Graduate Diploma of Divinity, and leads a small group for young adult TCKs in Adelaide, Australia. He can also be heard Saturday mornings on LifeFM and blogs at wheresthescript.com.

Living Between Worlds – A Post on TCKs

For as long as I can remember I have lived between worlds.

My first memories of life are from a rooftop in the southern area of Pakistan. The high, flat roof surrounded by walls was a perfect place to keep cool when the hot months came in early May. We slept on rope beds covered in mosquito netting able to feel an almost cool breeze after sundown.

Mosques surrounded our house on all four sides, their minarets stately and tall against the desert sky. While on the inside prayer times and Bibles sustained us, on the outside we were minorities in a Muslim world where the call to prayer echoed out over the city five times a day and ordered the lives of all those around us.

When you grow up between worlds the research on identity formation does not apply in quite the same way. Instead, you move back and forth as one whose identity is being forged and shaped between two, often conflicting, cultures. “A British child taking toddling steps on foreign soil or speaking his or her first words in Chinese with an amah (nanny) has no idea of what it means to be human yet, let alone “British.” He or she simply responds to what is happening in the moment” (Pollock and Van Reken, 2001).

There is now documented research that identifies some of the strengths and weaknesses that are part of growing up between worlds.

Here are some of the strengths that the third culture kid develops through living between worlds:

Cross-cultural skills

From their early years, third culture kids interact and enjoy ‘difference.’ They often take on various characteristics from the cultures where they have lived. They don’t see difference as good or bad – just different. This gives them a huge advantage in our global world. To be able to interact across cultural values and differences is a gift that is inherent to who they are.

Adaptability

Third culture kids show amazing ability to adapt across cultures. They are as comfortable in a crowded bazaar in a large city in Asia as they are in a pub in England. They blend with seeming ease into whatever setting they are thrown into – as long as it is outside their passport country!

Maturity

Often third culture kids are seen as more mature than their counterparts in their passport countries. They easily interact with adults two and three times their age and can see things from a more mature perspective.

Global view of the world

The worldview of the third culture kid is broad and wide. They often look around a room and think – “am I the only one who sees things this way?” People, governments, cultures, and countries all over the world have shaped them and it is impossible for them to have a one-dimensional worldview.

Flexibility

The third culture kid has learned how to be flexible and adjust their behavior to fit the situation. This flexibility can be a tremendous gift, particularly in rapidly changing situations.

Bridge-builders

Third culture kids are natural bridge builders. They are often able to see both sides of a situation and help to negotiate a successful outcome or interaction. This is an invaluable skill set and they often look for jobs that will allow them to function in this role.

With every strength comes a weakness and the successful third culture kid learns to recognize their weaknesses.

Some of those include:

Insecurity

There can be profound feelings of insecurity related to one’s passport culture. The sense of not belonging can come in unexpected places and spaces and result in precarious footing – like you’re on a cliff and one step in the wrong direction could send you hurtling into a place where you will get badly injured. Food, dress, cultural do’s and don’ts can all feel foreign, and with that cause a distrust of one’s ability to navigate

Unresolved grief and loss

Dave Pollock articulated the profound grief and loss piece of a third culture upbringing in this statement: “Most TCKs go through more grief experiences by the time they are 20 than monocultural individuals do in a lifetime.”There is so much more to say about this, but just know that this grief is real, the losses are real, and with real grief and loss comes the need for real healing.

Arrogance

Arrogance is often insecurity by another name. When the third culture kid feels ‘other’ they resort to coping mechanisms. This can come off as profound arrogance and result in exactly the opposite of what they really want – cause further alienation and feelings of being ‘other’ when what is longed for is connection and understanding.This can turn into a vicious cycle for the TCK and needs to be addressed for what it is – a deep insecurity with who they are within the context of their passport culture.

Difficulty planting roots

When your roots are everywhere, they can feel like they are nowhere. When the third culture kid tries to transition from a global background to a life of less movement it can be unsettling. As much as they may say they want roots, the tug of the airport, the feel of the airplane, the sense of hopeful expectation that comes from travel has been a part of their lives for as long as they can remember. Releasing this and exchanging it for roots is a huge step, and not one that is made easily.

While this is in no way an exhaustive list, it is a good start to recognizing strengths and weaknesses. When we name something, we have more power over it. When I name insecurity, I can address it for what it is. When I admit to grief and loss, I can begin to heal.

So how can you help your third culture kid as they live between worlds? The one you love more than life itself, the one who you’ve heard crying into the night, even as you face your own losses? Much has been written on this and there are some excellent resources available. But here are a couple of thoughts that have recently come up in conversation with other third culture kids.

Here is what helped us – perhaps it will help the kids you know who are living between worlds.

Name the losses

Naming the losses, identifying those things they long and grieve for legitimizes their grief. They no longer have to keep these feelings bottled up, dismissing them as unimportant. Naming their losses helps them face and deal with those losses. Naming them begins the important process of healing. Naming the losses can feel disloyal for a third culture kid, particularly if they have a good relationship with their parents. They don’t want to appear ungrateful or hurt their mom and dad. Because of this, it is often best done with a neutral person, one who will not feel hurt by this process.

Express feelings of restlessness

The third culture kid needs to be able to express their restlessness without parents or other loved ones becoming defensive and telling them how lucky they are to be where they are, to have the background they have had. The TCK experience is best captured by the word “Saudade”, a Portuguese word that has no English equivalent. It is an indolent wistfulness for what no longer exists. “Killing the Saudade” (Another Portuguese phrase) happens when they can get together with like-minded friends and express their restlessness, talk about home or the last place they lived, eat familiar foods, and reconnect with those from their past. Killing the saudade really works. It is an effective tool to address the restlessness and move forward in the places where we are planted.

Journal life events

Some of the fears of the third culture kid is that they will forget; that these places that hold such a big part of their heart and soul will be relegated to distant memories, and soon be gone. Journaling these events, even if they happened long ago, helps to remind the TCK of the gift of a global upbringing. Journaling can help the TCK process thoughts and memories.

Tell their story

As parents, it is easy for us to want to tell the story – but our kids have a story as well, and it is vital that they learn to tell it, that they own their story. If we are the ones hijacking the story, they never learn to take hold of it as their own. Part of their story is connecting their multicultural past to a meaningful present. We can’t do it for them, but we can encourage them along the way, encourage them to develop their own voices, separate from those of parents and siblings, remind them of who they are through their story. When they learn to tell their stories, they are better able to hear the stories of others, to recognize that everyone has a story.

It is these things that have led me to tell my own story, to write, to reflect, to describe – “my memory may be biased, or relayed in a way that my mom would say ‘that’s not quite the way it happened,’ but it is inalienably mine.”*

This past year I took one more step forward in my journey toward living whole and healthy, one more step in remembering my story. I released a book called Between Worlds: Essays on Culture and Belonging. The book is a set of essays on living between and is divided into 7 sections: Home, Identity, Belonging, Airports, Grief & Loss, Culture Clash, and Goodbyes set the stage for individual essays within each section.

My deepest prayer is that somehow, by the grace of God, the book will resonate with others who are living a life between worlds, so that others can remember their story and know it was worth it.

*From Kebabs in Jalalabad in Between Worlds – Essays on Culture and Belonging

How do you help your children live between worlds? What have you found to help them in this process? How do you help them learn to tell their story? Join us through the comments and the suggestions will be compiled into a future post!

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Between Worlds on Amazon “In Exodus God repeatedly tells the people of Israel to remember their story, to remember their beginning, to remember who they are. Later, exiled in Babylon, unable to return home, they were to remember their stories – stories of wonder and deliverance, of the power of God and His provision. They were to remember their beginnings.” from Between Worlds: Essays on Culture and Belonging, July 1st, 2014 Doorlight Publications.

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