Tips For Your First Year

And now I will state the obvious: your first year is memorable. Whether you’re a TCK going to the field as an adult or this is your first time to live on foreign soil longer than a summer project, you will remember your first forever. Here is a bonus tip from my first year: do all that you can to avoid group flights. If you are with an agency that sends a herd of people together to the field, it’s mostly to remind you hell is real and what you’re doing is important. It’s also a secret test if you’re willing to pay the price. I’m convinced of this.

In all seriousness, you are crossing a line. To this day I think of my life as BC/AC. Before I moved to China and After I moved to China. When did I first go to China? Three years BC. When was my first niece born? Six years AC. Chances are, it will be the same for you. Your life will be marked by this year. With that in mind, I do have three tips for you:

1. Welcome to the emotional edges. Chances are you are going to experience more highs and lows this year than you normally do. For some, you will camp out on the high side feeling exhilarated, flooded with joy at the sights, sounds, and conversations. Or feel genuine awe and wonder at small miracles you used to take for granted. Electricity? A washing machine? The internet? A care package? Could life be any better?!

For others, I’m sorry to say, you might find this year being one of severe loneliness and disappointment in yourself, locals, teammates, and God.  You might be awash in hopeless over how big the task is and how little you are or in shock at things now that you can’t imagine will devastate you.

In agony, a person new to the field told me over the phone, “Amy, I just don’t think I can team with them. This is so unacceptable. I don’t know what to do.” I couldn’t image what her teammates were doing that stole her joy since she couldn’t wait to get to the field. She was undone by teammates drinking Coke at meals. U.N.D.O.N.E. by it. We returned to this conversation over and over throughout her first year and every time she was equally distressed by them.

But for many of you, you’ll be a mix of both. The highs are high, enjoy them. You are blessed to do what you do. But the lows are low. I wish I could spare you. When you feel them coming, don’t hide them out of shame. You’re normal. Get people praying for you and be gentle with yourself. It’s okay to be low. It’s not fun, but it’s okay.

2. Know you’re going to change. How can you not when the traffic is different, the views of women are unlike back home, even standing in line (hello, how different can it be? Um, very.) is unlike anything you could imagine. You might be exposed to poverty in ways that will ebb at the edges of your soul or live in a land that is so “beyond God” you don’t know where to start. You might see your home country in ways that make your heart beat with pride or make you feel shame and embarrassment and confusion.

Here’s the other thing about the ways you’ll change, you may not see the depth of it for years. Some changes will be small in terms of affecting who you are as a person. Does it really matter in the grand scheme of things how you cross the street? No. But in other more significant ways, you might find you are no longer as in sync with your home culture. This call comes with blessing and loss, doesn’t it? So, for better or worse, you’re going to change and grow. As will your friendships, your marriage, and your parenting.

3. Enjoy! If you happen to be with cynical old-hands, please ignore their grumpiness. I admit, over the years it got harder and harder to be thrilled with new teammates reporting on using a squatty for the first time!!!! (The exclamations were them, definitely not me) down to every little detail. I get it. Your bladder was full, you were desperate, it smelled, urine came out, you lived. I’m very impressed.

This is what I’m talking about. Ignore me.

My first year was pre-internet, pre-Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Wechat, Skype. When I returned home for a few weeks after my first year, I brought with me five full photo albums with about 1,000 pictures (Okay, there were WAY more because I glued pictures into the front and back on the wasted blank pages.). I couldn’t wait to share my life with friends and family. I’ll never forget this comment:

We get it, you ate food.

Well now. But you don’t get how exciting pudding is from a care package! Or did you see how round those tortillas were I rolled? What, you don’t like a close up of the cooked eel?

Enjoy! Take pictures of whatever you want. Be excited over . . . everything. Be moved by how much bigger and amazing God is than you could have imagined. God said, “Taste and see that the Lord is good, happy is she who takes refuge in me.” Do.

If we were sitting down chatting over a cup of chai and you ask me what I’d suggest for the year, that’s what I’d have for you. Welcome to the emotional edges. Know you’re going to change. Enjoy!

Oh and we’re glad you’re here. Truly.

~~~

What do you think of these tips? What would you add?

Here are three more posts for those new to the field: M’Lynn reminded us of the realities of team and expectation those new to the field might have. Lauren gave first-year senders and goers the freedom to go slow. And Hannah gave insights for twenty-somethings.

This post is a repost from Velvet Ashes and the image designed by Karen Huber. Velvet Ashes is running a month-long series right now for folks new to the field, check it out.

Making Friends With Short Term Workers

This is the time of year when summer interns head back “home.” The time when short term teams taper off, and kids go back to school. The time when life on the field supposedly returns to “normal.” So as summer winds down, I want to take some time to honor the short term workers who have touched my life over the past few years.

I didn’t know my life would intersect with so many short term workers when I first moved overseas. It all started when we’d lived in Cambodia for six months, and we met a girl volunteering at the orphanage next door to us. She’d been surprised most of the volunteers weren’t believers and was desperate for some Christian fellowship. So we took her to church with us.

When we hugged her goodbye at the end of the summer, she connected us with a friend of hers. Her friend had a roommate, and both of them introduced us to another girl. They were all working short term for NGOs, and over a period of about six months, they all came to church with us on Sunday mornings.

They managed to squeeze into our mini-van with our four rambunctious kids. We ate donuts for breakfast, and after church we often ate lunch together. We laughed over homeschool jokes – both my husband and one of the girls had been homeschooled. And we introduced Anne of Green Gables to one of the girls, who had never had the pleasure of meeting Miss Anne Shirley.

God kept giving us opportunities to host more people in our home. One girl’s work kept her very culturally immersed. After she finished her work commitment, she stayed in our guest room a short while. She needed a chance to rest, and our daughters had a blast doing cooking projects with her.

When it came time for those girls to leave on a jet plane, I cried. I didn’t know I could get so attached to someone who was only here for a short time. I didn’t know it would be that hard to bid farewell to someone I knew wasn’t staying long. But we had spent time together, made memories, forged friendships.

Our family and two of "our girls," at some of the only green space in the city.
Our family and two of “our girls,” at some of the only green space in the city.

I’m coming up on another goodbye: our summer intern is leaving soon. She’s been part of our family life for over 3 months, and we will send her on her way with our blessing. God is doing some neat stuff in her life, and we’ve had a front row ticket to watch. We’ve pondered life together, shared countless meals, and laughed hysterically over nothing. . . and everything.

Each of these girls became part of our family. They leave a part of themselves with us when they go, and they go with our love. I still miss each of them. I’m so thankful I can follow their continuing journeys on Facebook — when they start grad school, when they finish grad school, when they get engaged, when they get married. Being able to see these things unfold in their lives brings me joy.

They were real-life friends for a season, but friends-at-heart forever. These short term workers have enriched my life as I have learned their stories, enjoyed their senses of humor, and discovered what brought them to Cambodia in the first place. It all seemed to be an accident, this habit of taking girls to church. But I sometimes wonder if the reason we were willing to open our home to new people is because older Christians opened their homes to us when we were younger, teaching us by example what hospitality looks and feels like.

When I was a lonely young college student, church ladies took care of me. One let me do laundry at her house, another let me cry to her when I was stressed. Both let me hang out at their houses on my 18th birthday. And incidentally, these ladies took me to church when I was without a car.

Later, when we were freshly married and still in college, church families continued to welcome my new husband and me into their lives. They included us at Christmas dinners and birthday parties. They invited us over to build campfires and watch meteor showers.

One family in particular shared their life with us. Nearly every Saturday found us driving to their house in the country, where we ate homemade bread and kielbasa soup, played board games, and sang songs with the guitar. Their family was our family, and I felt like I had a mom and a dad nearby. I believe it was out of these good experiences that we were willing to offer our own family to other people.

I’ve talked before about how goodbyes are hard for me. Sometimes goodbyes can make us reluctant to form new relationships. But if we’re reluctant to reach out to new people, we may be missing out on what they have to offer us: new perspectives, unique senses of humor, life stories that can illuminate ours. We’re missing out on the global nature of the body of Christ — and so are the new workers. They’re missing out on what we have to offer them – a “home” away from home, someone to sit next to in church, someone to debrief with over coffee.

Short term workers are a gift to us. They are only given to us for a short time, but we can make the most of that time. We can invite them into our homes and into our lives, we can make a place for them in our hearts. And they, in turn, can make a place for us in their hearts. We can remember forever the sojourners who were with us in body only a short time, but are with us in spirit always.

So don’t be afraid to welcome new people into your life, whether they’re with you for ten weeks or ten years. And remember that the love you show a college student today might be passed on to a missionary tomorrow.

 

Whether you were the short term worker or the long term worker,

how have you let people enter your life for a time, and your heart forever?

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