Slowly By Slowly

The first week Kirk went to work was hard. When he was gone full time for orientation, I think we all had a rough time. Reality set in that this was now where we lived, not just an exciting place to explore as a family. And day-to-day is not exciting, or marvelous, it is routines and grocery shopping and lots of time to sit and think about what I can (or mostly cannot) or should be doing.

I am still trying to figure out how to tell about it. But before I try, let me begin with thanks. Many people have asked lately what I am learning. What an insightful and thoughtful question. We have felt an outpouring of love and support from everyone we love and are far away from. We have gotten texts, emails (even cards!!) and had Skype conversations. These things have kept me going. I am so grateful for the people behind this screen, for your interest and curiosity about how we are, for your friendship. I will write you back! I am already in a better place to do so, so please be patient. Each word you wrote, each conversation, has buoyed me through some tough days.

We have a friend who confided that during her first year here she went to bed at 7:30pm each night because she was so completely exhausted every day. I understand this. Instead of writing about our experiences to help me process, instead of responding to loved ones who are reaching out, I crawl into bed drained at the end of each day. Worn out by the minutiae of every little thing. We learned in orientation that this is a real thing, the cost of adjustment on your body. It is called cultural fatigue, and I think I’m full in it.

“Cultural fatigue is an occasional part of travel, it is a sign that you have collected enough experiences to begin seeing through the outer crust of a place, that the patterns of a culture are making themselves known to you, that you are getting down to the deeper layers of the cultural spider web. All “culture” is a set of behavioral patterns, so getting to know these patterns — even though occasionally onerous — is part of the learning process of travel.

When you begin feeling fatigued in a culture for the first time, treat it as a sign of learning — the patterns that you observe are beginning to come together, the people are becoming more real, you are beginning to see through your inter-cultural blinders, and you are beginning to see not only another culture but your place in it. Knowing your place — how you are viewed — in another country is perhaps what breaks many travelers. The lack of respect that they are shown is often too much to handle: they become fatigued, explode, and go home. Cultural fatigue is perhaps a defensive mechanism, a way of closing the doors that you’ve opened into a culture because you don’t like what you see. You get angry over the small stuff

Travel is about self mastery. You will never master another place, another culture, another person, but you can attempt to master yourself. Facing the same little battles daily on the road is fatiguing, but there is not anything you can do about it: you can’t control another person, but you can control how you react to them.

Ironically, it is good that I feel so tired; it means that I am learning. That I am taking things in slowly by slowly and trying to make sense of things. I must resolve to react well, in a way that allows me to keep learning.

So what am I learning?
-To practice contentment.
-To be thankful in all circumstances.
-That joy is a choice and my attitude shapes everything for better or for worse.

These lessons have followed me to the other side of the world. These are the constant lessons I have faced my entire life. Except now there is a new lens through which I view them.

Since the first Sunday that we arrived, the church on campus has been doing a series called “The Comparison Trap.” It’s like they knew I was coming. I think part of the problem is that I am comparing my experiences to the idealized versions that I imagine others are having. The speaker emphasized having confidence in the unique way I was made, not to compare myself and how I’m doing to others because there will always be someone who is “-er” than me. Then he warned about certain people who aren’t content with just being “-er” but strive to be “-est” and I started squirming in my seat.

Right there in my journal, I wrote: “Expectations kill contentment”

What did I really expect?

I don’t think I expected the struggles of day-to-day life. Acutely feeling like an outsider. I am trying to figure out my role here, my place, to be known again. We are each struggling to do this.

I never expected that I would burst into tears while filling out the emergency contact form for Claire’s preschool. Who could we list? We have no friends! And then, as my self pity quieted down a little, I could hear the whispers…you have your host family who did so much to get you on your feet, you have your next-door neighbors who you are building a friendship with each afternoon as you watch the kids play together. Slowly by slowly it comes.

Then I read this blog on August 14th, from a mom and a writer that I respect; she shared her wishes for her son going off to college. Her hope that he remembers the love in their family more than the subjects she taught him. I think on these things as I realize that preschool is not college, but it is one more milestone, one more marker for me to stop by and notice. To remember what is important. To be sure that the “where” doesn’t matter about our lives, but the “how.” How will I react? How will I love?

“God didn’t put people in your path mostly for your convenience; He put you there for theirs. Loving the poor will make you rich, I promise.

The only life worth living is the one lost.

And no matter how loud and crazy and broken the world is, child, Let joy live loud in your soul.”

All my expectations of myself begin with “shoulds.” I should be ________ by now. I should know more Swahili by now. I should have more friends by now. And then I wonder where I got this crazy timeline anyway. I think a lot of the frustration comes from focusing on these wishful targets instead of taking in the moments as they come, and remembering what is important.

There is a phrase in Swahili that I have heard a lot lately. The Kenyans I try to talk to are patient and kind and they say to me that “it will come, pole pole (slowly by slowly).” This is encouraging to me. I will borrow from their confidence.

So, as we learn to live somewhere else, or as we learn a new role, or as we learn to accept where we are right now, let us not waste time comparing. Let us embrace our unique time and place and let us not forget to stop and show love. Let us love ourselves, too, so we can accept our life. Let us learn to let go of expectations and to let joy live loud in our souls.