No More Fear

I've noticed many people lately have posted a link to a video about the danger of having location services on when we take photos with our phones. I confess, when I first watched the video, I was rattled for the first couple minutes. Then I got to the part where it told me that all I had to do to save myself from the certainty of someone hunting me down and doing me ill was to turn off my location services.

Really? That's all? Ok, that's the kind of information that you should lead with! Like, "Hey, it's probably quite unlikely that someone is trolling the internet looking for this, but just in case, you might want to think about turning off your location services if you're concerned that someone could know where you are." But that's not how media works these days, I've come to understand since I'm back in the States. This is a culture where we are encouraged to fear.

Fear sells. We're drawn in to stories that play on our desires to protect those we love. We feel empowered that we could go one step further in ensuring that nothing bad happens to us or them. We feel like we're being responsible people to buy into the level of concern the media tells us we should have.

Except it's not real. Most of the time, the threat is nothing close to what they're telling us it is. But we believe it, and we begin to live out of that fear. I, for one, don't want to do that, because it takes things away from us.

It takes away trust in our fellow man. It takes away freedom. It takes away life. It takes away energy I could spend thinking about so many other more true things. I've learned recently that anxiety, even more than depression, decreases our productivity and our ability to reason. In other words, it doesn't help us make better choices.

I don't want to be driven by fear. It becomes a prison that makes our world smaller and smaller. As a believer, I am admonished again and again in scripture not to fear, but to live wisely, to live in faith.

Is there danger in the world? Certainly. Can we protect ourselves and our families from all of it? Never. So how should we respond? Can I suggest we make a choice to stay calm and be wise? Weigh the true risks, make wise choices to do what you can, and then live life fully. That's what I intend to do.

You Got That Kid Americanized Yet?

I had to explain juice from concentrate to our kids today. I guess it just wasn't high on my priority list, while we lived overseas, to introduce frozen juice to them. Actually, it probably just wasn't available. It's one of many gaps they have in their "American education." I knew they'd be there; I just didn't know where. They're learning about frozen juice and soccer games and commercials and all sorts of things they didn't have in China. If only that were enough.

If only it were enough to "Americanize" them. Someone honestly asked me that question the other night, "You got that kid Americanized yet?" My response was, "He will never be American."

No, I realize our kids DO have American passports. Yes, they are American. But please understand that our kids, and any kids who have spent significant parts of their childhood outside of the U.S. will never see it the way we do, and it does a disservice to them not to recognize it.

Imagine if your parents were German, but you were born here in the U.S. Then one day, your parents pick you up and take you to Germany and say, "You're home." Would you feel at home? Even if you knew the language and looked German, you wouldn't feel it the same way.

Over time, our kids will learn how to "be" American, but keep in mind that kids who have had the blessing and the challenge of spending formative years in another culture are forever changed by that experience. They see things differently.

I guess what I'm hoping for is that people don't expect that our kids basically "get over it." That they leave behind their expat upbringing and become like everyone else. That won't happen, and I don't want it to happen. After all, aren't we who are Christians citizens of another kingdom? This world is not our home. Why try hard to make it feel that way?

Do you miss China?

People often ask me if I miss China. I really don't know how to answer this question, because what comes to mind is the pollution this year that has been so high it's unmeasurable by the current systems. Obviously I can live without that. I miss friends terribly, but several of them have also left in the last year as well, so I know that life there would be very different now. I confess I find America a little boring at times - I go to the store and nothing weird happens, ever. Is that enough to make me miss China? No. I can make my own weird.

We spent time recently with friends we knew in Singapore. We talked about how, initially, my friend missed it so much after moving back here that she just wanted to go back to Singapore, but the reality was, it wouldn't be the same. We agreed that what we miss wasn't necessarily the place itself, it's the intangibles.

It's things like community. I miss meeting people for the first time and being dear friends with them a month later, because that's how things work overseas. I miss bonding like soldiers during war time, hunkering down together when the waves of living cross-culturally are too rough.

It's feeling competent, knowing how to be an adult in the place where you are. I don't know how to own a house. I don't know the norms of being a parent in America. One day I will figure out this DVR thing.

It's being known and understood, having routine, being more comfortable being the only white face than looking like everyone else. These are the things I miss, because they are the things I think we all desire from anywhere we live (except maybe the white face thing. That was just our normal).

I had those things. I miss having them. I know I'll gradually get them back, over time, for the most part. So do I miss China? Let's just say "I miss that life."

IKEA . . . or . . . Excuse Me, Can I Follow You?

Trust IKEA to be my cultural undoing again. I successfully navigated my way there today to find a few things for our house that I simply cannot find anywhere else, like all the shelf hooks that are missing from our IKEA bookshelf. They must have decided to head back to Sweden instead of migrating here with us.

It wasn't as unnerving as the other time I've been there in the US, possibly because there were more people. There still weren't enough Asians though. Every time I saw one, I literally felt more at ease. Something about seeing Asian faces made me feel like everything was right with the world. I was tempted even to follow them around the store like a creepy stalker. If I were emotionally less stable right now I probably would have, but thankfully I'm doing ok. I settled for just being happy whenever I saw them.

On the other hand, I was also cheered by the fact that I could read all the signs and that the meatballs are cheaper here.

Reverse Culture Shock

Every good expat has heard of the dreaded Reverse Culture Shock. That's where you go back to your home country and think, "This is weird! I don't get it! I feel like an idiot!" and other unpleasant things like that.

I came back to the States fully expecting that at some point we would have this. I've had it before - those moments where I was paralyzed in the bread/toothpaste/deodorant aisle incapable of making a decision because there were so many choices. The awkward times when I hand the clerk my credit card and then am informed that I can (and should) do it myself. I still forget that, and for the record, I don't like it.

This time I feel like all those potentially odd things that are different from Asia, to this point, don't strike me as anything but quite pleasant. I like that there are lots of choices. I like that driving doesn't feel like a test of my survival skills. I like that there is no one else on the streets in the morning when I exercise. I could get used to all these things.

But yesterday I hit my biggest moment of reverse culture shock. I went to IKEA.

I have never been to IKEA in America, only in Asia. So I was quite frankly weirded out by seeing prices in US dollars. It felt eerily empty. At no point did I feel like I was swimming against traffic. There wasn't a single Asian person anywhere. I kept thinking, "Look at this - it's all the same stuff. They brought it all from China." (Yes, I realize this is not true). Actually, it felt like I was still in China and just happened to go to IKEA on Foreigner Day.

Megan's cluing in to the reverse culture shock as well. In the bathroom the other day she said, "Mom, this toilet is really small. The toilets at Nonna and Babba's are really small too. Wait - maybe ALL the toilets in America are small compared to China!" and continued on in this vein for awhile, supposing that people would think she was weird because she's been using big toilets.

So we realize things are different, but so far we're generally of the opinion that they're good. I just don't think I'll go back to IKEA yet. That was weird.

If They Only Knew

This morning I was just another runner in a race on a typical Minnesota fall day.

I was just another mom watching her kid play soccer.

In both, I felt a little like the secret weirdo.

I mean I was the only person who didn't blink an eye when I saw that the three stalls in the women's bathroom didn't have doors. I was probably the only one who was breathing a lot easier during that 5K, or noticed that people were cheering in English.

During the game, I have to say I was pretty proud of Megan, who despite her only experience in soccer being bi-lingual coaching from a Swiss German with dredlocks alongside a gang of Chinese boys, seems to be one of the most skilled on her team. If not, then at least the fiercest and most determined. I didn't feel like explaining all that to any of the other moms.

Let them all think this is as normal for me as it is for them. They don't need to know how many times I've used bathrooms in the full presence of strangers, how I'm used to people staring at me like I'm insane when I run. They don't know that we've never seen this many American kids playing soccer in the same place before, or that Megan's not used to her teammates calling her name.

If they only knew.

Tap water and other novelties

America is novel to me right now.

This morning I watched a line of 5 cars creeping along behind a truck on a quiet road. The road was wide enough for three cars, and I thought, "In China, all of those cars would have gone around him, even if there had been oncoming traffic."

Last night I threw a melatonin pill in my mouth and immediately realized it was not the kind you suck. Ack! Ack! What to do? And then I realized - I can drink this tap water. I have to say it wasn't the best tasting water seeing as it was in the bathroom, but people, it was tap water. I walked around feeling weird about that for a little while.

Did you know that they make peanut butter Cheerios? And vanilla nut? Or something like that. I feel a little badly for regular Cheerios, like they aren't good enough.

They have Crystal Light single packets that come in mixed drink flavors now like margarita, because nothing says, "Soccer mom who'd rather be at happy hour" like fake alcohol in your water bottle.

The grapes are big but there are no seeds, and the skins don't feel like something you need to cut through with a knife!

America really knows how to do paper products. I feel like I'm wiping my nose with a blanket.

The internet is crazy fast here!

Yeah, I'm enjoying it all.

What We Won't Miss

There were things we loved about being in China and things we didn't love. I guess I had this feeling that as we left we would be clinging to all those things we loved (and we did - our friends being the primary thing) and forgetting all the difficult things. But then, right as we left, China decided to throw in a few doozies just to make us a little more willing to go. I'm not sure who to thank.

The first thing happened as we were leaving our house. We had just started off but had to run back because Erik had forgotten something. We double parked right at the mouth of where two roads converged, with the car running. After a few minutes we heard the unmistakeable crunch of metal against metal, and realized that a woman had tried to pass us on the left and scraped our front bumper.

She fared worse than us

She tried to insist that it was our fault that we were parked there, but I pointed out what seemed to be the obvious fact that I was IN the running car and she could have just asked me to move. Not ready to give up face, she insisted that we call the police and have them decide. Eventually we were able to convince her that the police didn't need to get involved and that we could deal with it all ourselves. Ethan crying and my anxious, "We really need to leave" face might have helped matters speed along.

So we sped along directly into a traffic jam. Not just any traffic jam, mind you, but my favorite, favorite kind, caused by someone doing something illegal without considering the ramifications for other drivers. In this case, it was the classic, "I don't want to wait in this long line. I'll just go into opposing traffic and drive to the front" move, only he managed to front end a bus which was rear ended by a van which was rear ended by another bus. And then to make it even harder to navigate the police car who came chose to park in one of the two lanes on our side of the road. This meant that people turning left onto our road had to try to drive down the one lane that we could use. Brilliant.

The van that caused it all. Notice that he is on the other side of the double yellow lines and the silver car is on OUR side of the road

Finally, the police car realized his position and moved, and we were able to grab onto a little bit more time with those friends we love and will miss dearly. The other things, yeah not so much.