The day was hot. It was the rainy season in West Africa, sticky and wet and uncomfortable.
Our family had only recently landed on the continent, and our newness was apparent as we did the “new worker” things like open a bank account, struggle through language, try to find housing, and shop for interesting food at the grocery store.
My daughters were getting acclimated to a small international school, figuring out things like needing their “trainers” and “rubbers” instead of their tennis shoes and erasers.
In the midst of all the learning curves, on this particular rainy season day, a fellow worker looked at me and said, “So, I read your blog. How do you write about living overseas or moving overseas when you just got here? Do you know enough to do that?”
Taken aback at the comment, I didn’t have an answer for her other than, “I just write what I’m currently learning.”
Unfortunately, that was not the last time I heard comments like that from fellow workers. About a year later, another worker said that it takes years to really understand and be able to help others. Another time, I heard that it had been discussed in a team meeting that I was too inexperienced to be writing about work overseas.
The comments were confusing and hurtful. I’d been writing for about five years by the time we moved overseas. I often wrote about parenting or homeschooling or traveling with a family. My “top ten” and “how-to” posts were popular and often requested, so it seemed only natural to keep doing that as we raised support, went to language school, navigated our first years overseas, and learned for ourselves what life overseas really was like for a young family.
So to hear that I wasn’t qualified to write about things that I was actually experiencing went against the heart of what I was trying to do with my writing.
I wanted to write with fresh input, real-life stories, actual in-the-moment overseas life lessons so that families or workers walking right behind me could have real, concrete, new information about the process.
When I was asking about what to bring to the field, I received lists that were old and not at all up-to-date. I got advice that they’d been giving for years. I wanted to offer newer processes, current lists, tricks for packing, and ways to prepare yourself and your family for the challenges to come.
I’d love to say that the negative comments and old-fashioned quips that I’ve experienced are an anomaly and unique to me. But sadly, the “it takes years to earn experience” and the “we had to learn the hard way, so can you” mentality is still alive and well.
I recently met with someone who was new to the field and had been asked to mentor another worker. A different worker heard about the situation, took her aside, and said, “Why did they ask you to do that? You’re new to the field.”
I’m ten years from the first comment someone made to me about my blog and my articles to help others who are getting ready to go to the field. I’ve heard many positive and encouraging things. Yet the negatives are still loud.
Loud for me, and loud for many of you who’ve experienced the same.
It might not have been your blog or your writing, but maybe it was landing on the field with years of ministry experience only to be told (in words or in actions) that none of that matters because everything is different overseas.
You may have been put in your place, sent back to square one, and told not to speak until you’ve experienced more real life in your host country. You might have felt completely stripped of your voice or your ability to help, teach, guide, or work.
I’m saddened to continue hearing that this is common in leadership, workers, teams, and orgs. It saddens me because these words and phrases shut down new, helpful, and needed input. These attitudes and mentalities steal fresh perspective, outside eyes, and recent experience. They quiet the voice of the person just in front of you in the process, a voice that needs to be heard by those walking in the footsteps right behind them.
Sometimes, the voice right in front of you is exactly what you need to hear. You don’t always need an expert who doesn’t remember the beginning. You don’t only need to hear the older, more experienced stories.
Those who are years ahead of us have voices that are valid, important, and absolutely needed. The years and history and memories and hardships are beautifully valuable to the next generations of workers.
One is not more important than another. One doesn’t disqualify another.
For example, if a new mom asked me for advice right now about what to add to their baby registry or items to make sure they have in their baby’s nursery, I could offer my favorite things. But my baby is eighteen!
A newer mom, one who is doing this right now, would know about the newest products, coolest gear, and amazing tech for nurseries today. She’s going to know things that I don’t know about shopping for a baby. I’m going to know how to cherish the moments, let go of things that don’t matter, and the truth that babies really do grow up fast. Both perspectives are needed for the new mom.
She doesn’t have to learn the hard way because other moms have gone before her. She’s going to have her own advice to offer in real-time to her friends having babies. And she’s still going to call her mom or another older mom repeatedly to ask about a fever or a rash.
In the same way, our new workers need the old and the new. They need the ones walking far ahead and the ones walking just a few paces in front of them.
After 10 years on the field and 23 years in ministry, what is the best advice I have for all of us?
1} Never be afraid to ask for help, advice, counsel, coaching, and tips.
2} Never be afraid to offer help, advice, counsel, coaching, and tips.
3} Don’t let someone invalidate your voice and your experience.
4} Don’t let your newness or oldness keep you from sharing, asking, or helping.
5} Be good at receiving and accepting the stories and experiences of others.
You might be in a season, however long you’ve been on the field, that you are looking for someone walking just ahead of you. You might be in a time of needing help or coaching. You might need someone to ask you questions or let you process your current challenges. You could be in a place yourself to offer that help and coaching to someone else.
Let’s go for it. Let’s help those walking behind us and value the perspective of those walking ahead of us while honoring the experience of both.
Now, as a professional life coach, my work is helping people navigate situations just like this. I love processing with those who have stories to tell, things to share, and experiences to unpack. I enjoy tackling problems and coming up with manageable solutions. I love asking the questions, putting together a plan, setting goals, and building new strategies for life’s challenges.
It’s an honor to walk through grief, mistakes, broken dreams, and relationship difficulties with those serving in faraway places who are in need of a safe person. From this lane, I can encourage and help those who are also out there encouraging and helping others, regardless of where I am or where they are in the story, the race of life.
In Hebrews 12, the writer gives us a powerful analogy of being surrounded by a cloud of witnesses as we run our race. We are all members of this great cloud of witnesses, and we all have an important part to play.
Through God’s absolute faithfulness in our lives, we can confidently share our experiences regardless of age, years in service, or time overseas.
With endurance and persistence, setting aside negative comments or hurtful discouragement, focus your eyes on Jesus. You have a story, a life, a race, a testimony that matters to those walking behind and before you. What a beautiful partnership when we all, with those behind and before us, share our stories.
