Ya know, just me and him... with nothing but each other and all the time in the world. I guess with the hustle and bustle of city life, Steven's previous job being so crazy and the whirlwind of raising support and packing up our lives for overseas, the idea of escaping to a land of nothingness and complete solace was incredibly appealing. I would daydream about what sorts of things I would bring to this island, what fun things we would come up with to entertain ourselves, and what we'd really discover about ourselves and each other from this special time away. It seemed like it would be the perfect adventure and answer to my tired soul.
However...
I definitely don't feel that way anymore. Because right now, it feels like my wish really did come true, that we really are on a deserted island. But instead of relishing in all its glory, I actually hate it.
Don't get me wrong, I love Thailand and everything about it. The people, our team leaders, the weather, the language, the culture. All wonderful. But the thing that I have continued to struggle with, and found myself unexpectedly weeping to Steven about today, is that I hate feeling like we're here, in this far away place, all by ourselves.
It's no way to live.
So far, we haven't met very many young couples here. It is mostly older families, with established ministries and lives, busy with their kid's activities and work responsibilities. We are grateful for so many seasoned people to learn from, but I have a deep ache for a couple that is in the same place of life that we are in.
We have neighbors who want to be friends with us, but we just don't have enough language to develop a deep friendship yet. Right now, hanging out with them takes a lot of courage, concentration and mental energy which often leaves me extremely exhausted. I long for a refreshing time of laughter, likemindedness, and comfort.
Steven keeps praying that God would give us the opportunity to make new friends. But as I was blubbering in his arms today, I told him that I didn't want new friends. New friends mean starting from scratch. New friends mean that they don't know our history, our story, or who we really are. I told him that new friends just mean a lot of time and energy and that I was sick of making new friends anyway. Within this last year we have moved 4 times. New friends in Chicago. New friends in Roanoke. New friends in Colorado. Now new friends in Thailand? I'm just not sure I can do it again.
Something else that didn't cross my mind in my deserted island fantasy was that I could possibly lose a sense of who I am in this place. It sounds strange, but feeling so isolated has made me feel a bit crazy. These past few weeks we have been praying for the Lord to give me some new hobbies. Steven has his fill here as there is every outdoor adventure right at his fingertips. As I have been processing through my feeling of isolation, I have come to realize that all my "hobbies" have to do with people. And because the lack of community we are experiencing, I just don't know what to do with myself. We have no friends to entertain or have over for dinner. No one to cook for, disciple, share funny stories or have deep conversations with. No one to encourage, no one to go to coffee with, no group outings to plan. That's what normally feeds my soul. So it's no wonder that I feel like I'm in starvation mode. I'm afraid I don't know who I am without community.
And what about the rest of our lives here? I just can't see it moving forward without a sense of community. The greatest and latest tension has been whether or not we should start a family. It seems like every time we Skype with someone from home we find out they are pregnant. And besides being extremely excited for such a blessing, it always leaves a dull pain in my heart. Mostly because I know that if we were in the States, we would be ready to have a baby too. But the thought of having our first baby here, with no family and friends around, absolutely terrifies me. Being a mom for the first time, figuring it all out, with no one here to help us through it? It's enough to make me think that we'll never be ready. And to be honest, I'm just so sad about it.
I'm not quite sure why I'm writing this post. Maybe it's to vent. Maybe it's to process. Maybe it's a cry out to God. (God help!) Maybe it's to write out all my complaints and fears so that someone can tell me that I'm being ridiculous.
Maybe it's all of the above.
As Steven held me today, he said, "I'd rather be here, knowing we are in God's will, struggling... rather than at home, not in God's will, comfortable."
I know he's right. I know we are supposed to be here and for whatever reason God is allowing me to struggle through this phase. I'm just hoping that one day I can reread this post and see the intimate hand of God in all of this. I await, in eager anticipation, the ability to look back on this time and see how thoughtfully God was preparing me for new friendships, motherhood, and a deeper faith in Him.
For now, I just need constant reminders from God to see the blessings He's giving me from time on this deserted island.
Lauren,
ReplyDeleteI don't know if you remember me, I met you and Steven at Uptown when we were all living in Chicago (I'm married to Daveo).
Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that a) I understand what you're going through and b) this will get better with time. I also know how trite this sounds, and how you'll probably roll your eyes a little bit when you hear it, but it's so true.
Daveo and I moved to England 6 1/2 months ago and it has been the hardest adjustment of my life. I went (and am still going) through all of the same things that you're experiencing, the same feelings of losing myself, feeling so isolated--almost like you're suffocating. I can't imagine a language barrier on top of it all, and such a huge culture shock as well.
Try to just take it a day at a time--focus on making it through the day and try to let that be enough.
Praying for you guys.
-Cami
I definitely felt this way at times while I was living in Mexico. Thanks for honestly sharing what you're going through. We'll all keep you guys in our prayers.
ReplyDeleteI have the same struggle Lauren. I was able to hang out with others like us in our language school, but when Justin started his MBA in Nice all I had were the babies. It's exhausting. It was better (a little) by the end but then we were leaving! I found myself not wanting to invest since I knew I'd be leaving anyway. Now, as I look at the next step, a new country, a new language, a new team, the ONE THING that has me digging in my heels is the people. I want to be on a team with people I like because I need that community at least as much as I can get from a team. It's the deal breaker it seems for me and I don't know that I could have pin pointed that before.
ReplyDeleteAnd, it might become a little better, but it's not easier. It's true that there is no place like home. Nowhere. Home is the only place that knows everything. However, you will eventually become a different person after years of living in your new home. You'll ache to leave. I found myself trying to soak in Nice with every breath, every look, every moment because I knew it couldn't come with me. My son had the best preschool year I could have asked for there. I grew as a person there. I gave birth to my daughter there. It just takes time to make a place so foreign home. It won't ever be 'home' home, but you will love it because you will become Lauren Sauder there. You will grow.
Give yourself a time limit to be sad and then say, 'Okay. I have grieved now I will embrace.' Find three things to thank God for that meet your need for feeling 'at home'. even if it's just that you can find peanut butter in the market, that's a praise. That's a gift. You need to grieve but you also need to rejoice. Rejoice! You're married and on the mission field! Rejoice! The Hambrices are there! Rejoice! God loves you eternally.
You are loved friend.