Thrown into the fire, only to find a breath of fresh air

WHY REFUGEES?
 
I came to Greece a little over a month ago to work within the refugee community.

If I were truly honest, I cannot put into words why I feel so compelled to be here with refugees.  Out of all the vulnerable communities that I've been exposed to -- and there have been several -- I am continually drawn to refugees.  It is the duty of the strong to look after the weak (insert 'vulnerable').  And vulnerable can extend to a plethora of groups.  God also calls us to care for widows and orphans, and to extend hospitality to the foreigner. That's the one that I keep circling back to.  Perhaps it's because they are looking for safety, a place to belong, a home.

Perhaps it's because I'm looking for the same thing.

The more I allow God to show me His world and His people, the more I see the brokenness in how we as people create society.  Make no mistake - blame cannot be placed on God when we are making our own choices.  He created us with our own mind -- not robots that instantly submit to His will -- so we are perfectly capable of treating one another so much better.  Now, I accept that I'm longing for an idealistic world free of malice and self-interest.  I know this is ultimately unrealistic.  But do I throw up my hands and say, "oh well"?  Do I simply live in brokenness?  As long as we are living in a world that does not recognize the sovereignty of God and his perfect plan, we will continually be disappointed in the society we live in.  A society that does not stand for the vulnerable - the widows, orphans, homeless, abused, sex-trafficked, slave laborers.

The refugee.


WAITING IN A REFUGEE CAMP

Although I've been dividing my time between two ministries part time, my ministry in Athens is still being sorted out (I'll post another blog about them soon).  However, everything and everyone took a two week Easter break (schools, ministries, etc.), and I suddenly found myself in a refugee camp in northern Greece called Nea Kavala.  The timing was purely God-ordained.  I was unexpectedly given two weeks off from the ministries I started with, so I rang up my friend who is a coordinator with Drapen i Havet (DiH), Norweigen for Drop in the Ocean.  She said they were short on volunteers and asked if I could volunteer with them.  I bought a train ticket, and by Monday, April 22, I was in a village called Axioupolis.

Although I've spent quite a bit of time with refugees through the years, this was technically the first time I worked in a refugee camp, as there are usually restrictions concerning short-term volunteers.  Not so with Nea Kavala.  With very little information, I was thrown into the beautiful chaos of 'market week' in the Drop Shop.

THE FIRE

Market week is the week when residents can come into the clothing shop (comprised solely of donations from individuals, other NGOs, and even a couple corporations) and select clothing for themselves and/or their family.  While I say it was chaotic, there was a method to the madness.  Refugee residents have specific appointment times when they could come in so that the shop wasn't flooded with hundreds of people.  Residents check in at the front of the shop, select their clothing and hygiene items, and check out at the back of the shop.  Their currency:  drops.  Residents are given a certain amount of 'drops' and can earn more, or choose not to spend all their drops during market week.  It's a way for residents to spend, while not using actual money.  It's a beautiful system.

 

 
When I arrived, there were only two international volunteers, with four resident volunteers.  Needless to say, that was not enough people to handle everything DiH managed had going on.  My mind was over-stimulated with all the new information I was trying to digest on the run, and by the end of the day, I was exhausted!  Even with so few people, DiH still managed to run like a well-oiled machine, making up for shortcomings with a gracious smile.  And day after day, we got up and did it all over again (only on Wednesday, we packaged and distributed food as well!).

Food distribution

On the other side of the distribution window

The next day I was given a full rundown of all the services DiH ran: laundry, bike rentals, a build-and-repair shop, food distribution, sports/games/fitness, and of course, the Drop Shop.  My head was spinning with everything DiH managed!


FRESH AIR

What impressed me most of all were the resident volunteers.  For the first week I was there, they outnumbered international volunteers and were an absolute powerhouse when it came to food distribution and managing the Drop Shop.  They are all incredibly hard workers, and were so patient with me as I learned the ropes.  To top it all off, they also worked as translators during market week.  Despite how fast-paced market week was, I was able to get to know the resident volunteers as we worked together.  It was easy to do -- they offered ready smiles, laughter, and even tried teaching me some Arabic and Farsi (I have terrible pronunciation).  All in all, the friendships that were born came from a place of mutual respect with a dash of curiosity.

On Saturday we went on a special outing to a bird sanctuary on a lake.

On my last two days there, one couple invited me for a special dinner they prepared so I could experience Syrian food -- and it was absolutely scrumptious!  If you ever get a chance to try maqlooba, you must! I knew that buying the ingredients (especially to feed an extra person or two) was costly, but I also knew I could not refuse such a generous offer of hospitality.  Sharing meals is cross-culturally the best way to build relationships.  I will stand by this:  if you want to truly get to know someone, break bread with them.

 REVIVED AND REFRESHED

Even in the midst of a camp (and all that entails), beauty surrounded -- and even interloped -- the grounds.  It could be seen in the faces of the residents, the laughter of the children, the painted bathrooms, and the breathtaking poppy fields and sunsets.  I know the camp is not my home, so my perspective is quite different; however, no one can watch the sun set over the distant mountains and not be captivated by its beauty.  It is a small comfort to have in dire circumstances.

Although I was only able to work with DiH for nine days, I am even more convinced that I am where I need to be.  This is the community I need to be a part of, and I need to be intentional about reaching out and building relationships in Athens.  I am sad I cannot remain part of the DiH community, but God has shown me that opportunities abound in Athens if I were only to look.

I came back to Athens with renewed vigor (although physically tired), only to find that my previous arrangement with Faros had changed over Easter break.  I'll admit I was disappointed, but cannot help but believe that God works all things for good (Rom 8:28).  While my ministry focus has shifted to be working more with women, I believe this is also an answer to prayer: He is giving me a chance at community.

There is so much I have to learn about everything -- culture, ministry, language, etc. -- but I am approaching my entire time here as a learning opportunity, and am so blessed to be given the chance at the first-hand experience.

An old/new world: a reverse culture shock story (part 3)

I mentioned it in the first part of this series, but there is a strange, discordant feeling when returning to a different "home" than the one you left.  It has the familiarity of a distant memory, the appearance of a place I should know, but is wholly different.  It's as though the current "home" was draped over the old "home" to create a distorted image of a place I once knew.

And because I feel as though I should know this place, I get frustrated so easily when things are not as I remembered them.  Culture shock, on the other hand, when adjusting to a different culture in Asia, was frustrating for different reasons.  I hated feeling confused and unsettled.  I hated being reminded that I was a fish out of water.  And I hated how easily I felt superior to my host culture when I found their way of doing things backwards or archaic.

But I got used to the backwards way of living.

It became my new normal.

Coming back to America where there are definitive rules, regulations, and red tape -- where I thought I would feel relieved knowing the system, has me frustrated because of the rules, regulations and red tape.

APPOINTMENTS...

The most frustrating of all is having to make appointments for EVERYTHING.  Korea was a bit more appointment-driven than Thailand, but even then, the appointment could be made within the week, or even by the next day.  I'm talking about doctor/dentist appointments, hair/cosmetic appointments, scheduling massages, going to the embassy, having maintenance done on your apartment - you name it.  Appointments in Thailand were almost nonexistent.  For companies/offices that had a physical location, they would rather you show up and wait in line rather than schedule an appointment because they wouldn't be able to keep the appointed time.  I could literally walk into a doctor's or dentist's office and be seen within minutes.  I would call my hair stylist and schedule an appointment for later that week.  Massages were fairly instantaneous.  If it was a service you were calling in (such as internet hookup or maintenance) the likelihood that they would make it on time was nil.  It was best to call and request the service at that moment.

But America.....you are obsessed with appointments.  With the exception of the emergency room or Urgent Care, good luck seeing a doctor when you're actually sick.  By the time your appointment rolls around, you've been well and back to work already.  I went to the dentist last month and tried to schedule a cavity filling as soon as possible.  The next appointment opening was in June! I told them I'd be out of the country by then and wasn't sure when I'd be back.  The receptionist said I could always call back once I knew when I'd be back in town.  I called back a week later and they said the next available appointment was in July!  I was practically seeing red at this point.  How many hundreds of people are filling cavities and getting teeth cleaning at this one dental office that makes them so busy??  I kept trying to explain that I would definitely be out of the country by then, and she said she'd put me on a wait-list if I could come in with a 15 minute notice.  As flexible as my job is, 15 minutes is not enough time.  I tried scheduling a massage (for the first time since returning to the States) last week, and the place didn't have any openings until March.  Hair appointments are just as bad.  How do people know that far in advance that they want a trim?  It seems like everywhere I go, people are asking me, "Do you have an appointment?"

DRIVE-THRUS AND MAILBOXES

On a lighter note, I'm not used to the American drive-thru system anymore.  I wouldn't use the Starbucks drive through, even if I was taking my drink to-go, because I feel so flustered talking to a speaker rather than a real person.  I'm used to ATMs being everywhere (more so in Thailand than Korea), but they are only at the bank in my hometown.  There's one outside, and one in the drive-thru.  Given my experience with drive-thrus, I never thought about using it for the ATM.  I would park my car (or bike), and walk up to the ATM on the side of the bank.  I did this for four months before I realized I could use the ATM drive-thru.

Similarly, I had totally forgotten that you could mail letters through your own mailbox by simply putting that little flag up!  I mailed a ton of letters at the post office until I was reminded in November that I could use my own mailbox to mail things.

CREDIT CARDS

Only major retailers or big restaurants accepted credit/debit cards in Thailand.  They couldn't be used in 7/11s, and some places even had a $15 minimum.  I got used to carrying around cash, or would grab some from the nearest ATM before going shopping.  Korea was a different story.  Their entire economy lives off of the plastic card.  Even little booths in a market would carry a card-reader that attached to their cell phone because they were so accustomed to people not carrying cash.  I paid all my taxis with my debit card and wouldn't think twice about it.  I could step into a 7/11 and buy something for less than a dollar and still use my card.

So coming back to America where there is still a balance of card use and cash, it was a surprise to me that places still had a minimum amount for using cards.  Or, some places will charge you to run a credit/debit card.  Charges and minimums?? We live in America people!  The money is legit, trust me.  Checks are still accepted, but they are going by the wayside since they take so long to fill out.

PLACES

I realized a couple months ago, that I could not remember street names or place names that have been around since I was little.  Visual recall is important for me to remember places, so when a friend of mine started listing off different neighborhoods, and I could not remember where they were, I actually panicked.  It was as if my memory was taken away from me.  Another friend mentioned a church that was only five minutes from my house, and since I couldn't recall what it looked like, shrugged and told her it must be a new church.  But it wasn't.  I drove by it on my way home and was so embarrassed that I couldn't recall the facade of the building.

SELF CHECK-OUT

I avoid self check-out at all costs when I get groceries or other items.  They are far too frustrating and complicated.  I'd rather hand my items to a cashier and have that person take care of it, instead of scan the items myself and look like a fool who doesn't know how to use the machine.  These don't exist in Korea or Thailand (at least, not that I'm aware of).

CLOSING TIMES

I had forgotten, after living in major cities for eight years, that my small town closes somewhere between 8-9pm.  Coffee shops start closing down as early as 4pm, and restaurants are done by 9pm.  Things get very quiet around here, and it's eerie.

RETURN POLICIES

This is something that was a relief to return to.  Living in a foreign country meant being surrounded by foreign languages.  This made trying to return an item (specifically clothing) nearly impossible.  No one has lax return policies like America! Some places have a 30-day return policy, while others a whole year!  I had a hard enough time trying to find retailers that would allow me to try on the clothes, let alone return them if they didn't fit!

These are just a few of the differences I've noticed during these last six months.  If I were to list the differences between Asian living and American living, the list would go on and on. I go through cycles of frustration and relief thinking about where I am and where I've been.  Even knowing that this is all a part of reverse culture shock, it doesn't make adjusting any easier.

Living In-Between: a reverse culture shock story (part 2)

There are two transitions that international living affords: culture shock and reverse culture shock.

The first shock happens when you make a substantial move from your home country to another country.
For me, this occurred when I moved to Bangkok, Thailand in July 2010.  I was frustrated with myself for not adjusting better, thinking that I’d been familiar with Asian culture all my life, therefore, I could handle Thailand.  I was woefully wrong.  It took me six months before I could call Thailand home, and even after the first year of living abroad, I was still discovering new things about my new home that shocked me.  The move to Seoul, Korea in July of 2016 was much smoother — practically seamless.  I had a much more realistic view of the adjustment that needed to take place.  I expected to not understand everything about the country and the people around me.  I accepted my place as a foreigner, and that I would never be “Korean”.

But then I moved back to America — temporarily — and have found myself residing in a nauseating limbo, hovering somewhere between going and staying.  I know that life in Oregon is only a time to regroup, recharge, and reassess my future endeavors.  I know that I'll be relocating to Europe less than a year after reentry.

And this is where reverse culture shock -- the disorientation felt when returning to your home country after being gone for a significant amount of time -- attacked me full-force. 

But it's the double-jeopardy version: I've come back to America, not to settle down, but to reside for more than the average summer vacation before jetting off again.  The stakes are higher, the risks greater.  There is no time limit on readjustment.  I couldn't say to myself, "I'll get over reverse culture shock in a couple months".  Similar to grief (which is a component of RCS), I never knew when I would feel it the most, or when I would be ready to move on.  By "move on" I mean either reside in America on a permanent basis or move to another country (currently, my eye is on Greece).

The question I've had to ask myself is what should I do with this in-between time?

Should I treat these 8 months as I would an extended summer vacation?  Do I dare lay roots knowing I'll be uprooting myself mere months later?  Do I build a community knowing I will be extracting myself later?  Or do I live as though my life here truly is temporary -- keeping relationships at a distance so as not to feel wounded when I leave?  When I say it is a nauseating limbo, I mean it -- I don't know how to respond and react to people I've either known most of my life or have recently met.  I'm constantly questioning the worth of investing in relationship.  I'm questioning how despondent I'll feel later when I don't have the opportunity to see them at leisure.  Pouring myself into others, as others are pouring into me, takes energy.

Ultimately, I know it is not wasted.  But will it be regretted due to sadness?

And so I live in limbo, and to an extent, self-loathing for wanting to distance myself, yet hating not being able to live in community.  I'll get into specifics in my next post.  I promise.  The journey is far from over, despite me living in Oregon for 8 months now.


If you'd like to read up on culture shock and reverse culture shock, here are a few websites/blogs that put into words things that I cannot.  What I'll be writing here is my personal experience, not necessarily the generalized experiences common to those going through culture shock and reverse culture shock.

State government:  https://www.state.gov/m/fsi/tc/c56075.htm
Blog:  https://www.alifeoverseas.com/coming-back-from-narnia-what-re-entry-feels-like/
Blog: https://thesavvybackpacker.com/reverse-culture-shock/

Coming "home": a reverse culture shock story (part 1)

The terminology is seemingly innocuous : coming back home.

It doesn't matter how it's worded:  "Are you going home this summer?" "When are you coming home?"  Whether I'm coming or going, everyone refers to the place I originally came from as home.  But what if it isn't?

The concept of home carries so many implications -- security, intimacy, familiarity, acceptance, belonging.  But what if that isn't the case?  What if I'm not coming home, but simply relocating to a place I used to live?  I don't mean to sound heartless, but the associations that come with the mention of home do not necessarily ring true for me.   The most I can say is my hometown is familiar to me.  It is not secure or intimate. Can I really claim my hometown in Oregon as "home" if I haven't lived there in a decade? Yes, it is a town I've lived in the longest - about 15 years - and yes, I still have family in town.  But is it still my home?

While living overseas, I've had to consciously stop myself from correcting others when they ask when I'm "going home".  I set down roots.  I made Thailand, and then Korea, my home.  I did not see myself leaving Asia anytime soon.  Yet to expats and locals alike, when summer or Christmas rolled around, the inevitable question would pop up innocently enough: "Are you going home?"  I wanted to tell them, "I am home!"  "This is my home!" But I knew what people meant: a return to where I once lived. Perhaps I recoiled from the idea because of the overall implication that where I was currently living was only temporary; that I'd eventually return to my "hometown".

Little did they know that I carried home with me.  Home was where I lay down roots; found a community; invested in the life around me; learned to function in a culture different than my own.

So did I return home?  The difficulties in answering this question is that when I came back to Oregon, I already knew it was on a temporary basis.  I couldn't lay down roots and settle in because I was already planning on leaving 6-8 months later. This has made reverse culture shock extra difficult to manage, mostly because the entire process of acclimating to a new culture (or old in this case) is allowing yourself to settle in.  I couldn't settle in because it would make uprooting even harder to handle.

I'm content calling this "home" for now.  But in a few months, Greece will be my home.  And after that, who knows?

I know the world is only a temporary home.  One day I'll be in my forever-home.  It makes drifting from one place to another infinitely easier.  I hold people and places loosely.  I cherish friendships when I am present, yet feel blessed to have friends world-wide.

I've learned to hold home close to the chest.  It is not a place; it is a feeling.


Note: I don't know how long I will write about this subject, but there will be a few installments concerning reverse culture shock.

A reflection on the past

For someone who thrives on living life abroad and the continuous challenges that come with the territory, transitioning back to America has most definitely been the hardest thing I've had to do in a long time.  Moving to Korea in 2016 had its own challenges, but it was a change I sought.  And somehow it was a change that allowed me to regain some semblance of control.  (Yeah right).  When I made the decision to move back to Oregon, it was purposeful, but I knew, I knew, control was not in my grasp.  I knew I was giving up independence.  I knew I was giving up space.  I knew I was giving up financial security.  And I knew I was giving up a community that had become my safety net.
I also knew that I would be entering the phase of reverse culture shock. I tried preparing myself by reading what others wrote on the subject.  But in the same way reading a travel book is nothing like experiencing that travel destination, knowing about the challenges of re-entry didn't lessen the blow.  However, this is not a post about reverse culture shock.  I know, it really looked like I was finally getting into the subject I've been hedging for several posts now.  One day I'll get around to writing about it -- the good, the bad, the ugly.

For now, let's take a look back at 2018...

I took not one, but two trips to Guam within about 5 weeks of each other.  This island holds a lot of special memories from childhood, but is also breathtaking in its own right.  Although I was young when I used to live there, none of those memories were diminished by returning as an adult, (as is often the case).  Actually, I believe the nostalgia intensified my joy at being back in a place I first called home.  It was wonderful experiencing it with first my brother, and then with some friends. 

I was thrilled to be able to attend the Winter Olympics held in South Korea in February.  It was incredible, although entirely too cold for me.  The events I focused on were ice hockey and ice skating; both indoor sports of course. Sharing it with these folks made it all the better!

The end of March brought me and a small YISS team to Bangkok for our short-term mission trip.  I went last year, but this year I had the privilege of leading the team back to my old stomping grounds.  It was both fulfilling and stressful.  We had a lot of last minute challenges pop up, including losing team members, but through it all, God was faithful.  The girls were safe and had a great time.  It was beautiful seeing them step up as leaders and minister to both children and women. (It took a lot of scrounging for pictures; somehow I deleted all of mine! Yes, I'm devastated.)

I've mentioned my Seoul community before, but now I want to show you them, because they helped keep me sane, grow in my faith, and support me through my self-discovery. Everything from after church lunches and hangouts, to beach trips, to potlucks, to weddings - my heart was filled to overflowing with this bunch!

But then the arduous task of goodbyes came, and I eased some of the pain by visiting SE Asia before returning to America.  I spent my birthday in Chiang Mai with friends, visiting the children's home I had become attached to, and eating my way through the city.  With a brief stop in Bangkok visiting with my old church family, I was on my way to Manila for a whirlwind visit!

August/September brought me to Greece for two reasons: volunteer with Lighthouse Relief again, and conduct a vision trip to gain a greater understanding of what lay in store for me with GEM as I raised support.  This trip was so incredibly crucial! Not only was I able to gain first-hand experience with refugees and learn more about the situation in Greece, but it helped me figure out where I want to serve once my support is raised.  I thought I'd be heading back to Lesvos, but God showed me the need in Athens was much greater and where I could serve to the best of my abilities.

And finally, learning how to live life in rural Oregon again.  Eight years in giant metropolitan areas conditioned me for a different lifestyle, but returning to Oregon where everyone speaks English and engages in small talk on a regular basis made me feel like a fish out of water.  It's not the thriving one might expect returning to one's hometown.  It's not the ease, the relief, of slipping back into the intimately familiar.  But, that's for another post.  Instead, it is reacquainting myself with childhood friends.  It is remembering how to socialize with Oregonians exclusively.  It is readjusting to a slower pace of life with nature at one's fingertips.  And it is ultimately a time to thank God in all things -- even when I do not feel thankful.  Because how can I be who God wants me to be without being sharpened by the people He brings into my life?

As I look forward to what 2019 holds, I am confident that God will carry me through the challenges and bring me out the other side more resilient than ever.