Love in a time of corona

At the beginning of spring, I returned to America quietly. In light of the global pandemic, all eyes focused on the corona virus and how it would affect everyone on a personal level. I saw no reason to distract from that, and so quarantine was a time of blessed rest. I couldn't see friends in person, and I still felt strange about conducting a social life through video chat. Ironic. One would think that this technological age prepared me for such a time. But it seemed ridiculous that with friends just down the street, the only way to see them would be though a screen. I came back from living in Greece for a year, living a life that was incredibly new to me, and yet I've had precious little chance to tell people about it. But this is not a story about Greece.

In one year God redirected my life in a way I would never have foreseen. He sent me to Greece, opened up doors for me to volunteer in Spain for a week during Europe's holiday high season, and introduced me to an amazing man in a way so creatively comedic, that only He could mastermind. I never imagined that saying "yes" to God in one area of my life meant He would shower me with His blessings in a completely different area. It was as if He was saying, "Just trust me, Lissa. Show me you can trust me, and I'll show you what I have in store."

And then He did.

However, coming back to Oregon in the midst of "stay home, stay safe" hasn't granted much opportunity to share with friends the magnitude of this whirlwind relationship. I was blessed with a beautiful set of friends in Athens who excitedly supported me through this long-distance relationship (and we were long-distance from the beginning!). They listened with patient smiles as I questioned skeptically if this could be real. If he was real. They let me talk through my doubts while I was still bewildered by a man pursuing me from the other side of the continent. They would even let me sing his praises in awe and wonder. And whenever Mat would come to town, they eagerly asked to meet him to see if he lived up to the picture I had painted for them.

And he did.

But now, as spring is slipping into summer, I have shared with precious few people about the man who relentlessly pursued me. The corona virus has given new meaning to the term "being flexible"; disrupting our lives not with its destructive hold on our lungs, but by throwing all sense of planning and timelines out the window. I've patiently (and sometimes impatiently) waited 35 years to meet the man God had in store for me. Thirty-five years of being baffled by the world of dating, resting just on the fringes of the wonderful mystery of love. Thirty-five years of wondering if perhaps I really was meant to be alone. And while I'm thankful for technology (despite it not working regularly), I find my patience wearing thin because we don't know when we will be reunited.

You see, I'm supposed to be engaged right now. And in my mind, I feel like I am. An engagement simply signifies the intentions of two people to get married and actively take steps in that direction (i.e.: plan a wedding!). Yet, as an American, we have certain traditions that proclaim us engaged...or not. A proposal is the official beginning of an engagement. And as one friend pointed out: "no ring, no engagement." Deep down in my traditional mindset, I would be inclined to agree. But if I am honest, I am devastated by the perception and would rather throw such nonsense out the window. It's not our fault both his country and mine will not allow us to be together due to lockdowns and flight bans. And so I sheepishly tell people about Mat, hedging around the most important detail I want to share, realizing I am missing the tell-tale ring on my left hand. Being intentionally vague isn't my style. Being sheepish isn't either. But how can I possibly tell people we are getting married without a ring? How do I explain planning a wedding when I'm not technically engaged yet?

However, the worst part about our situation isn't that we aren't engaged, but that we have to be separated without knowing when we can see each other again. We aren't in the same city, just at opposite ends; leisurely dating until the world calms down and we can put our plans into action. We aren't in the same country even, separated by a few hours' drive. No; we have an ocean, a continent, and 9 time zones between us. We live in two countries that have banned travel between each other. We try to console one another, saying it's only temporary (and in my mind I know this to be true). But the truth is I can't even use a countdown to look forward to being reunited because there simply isn't a definitive date.

I am praying for the Lord to direct our steps. I am praying for a patient heart and a joyful spirit.

As much as I am trying to follow the stay-home orders, my heart is hurting for local community. Being separated from Mat is hard enough, but it is compounded by being separated from friends I've known for years. I want to support my community and be supported in return. I hate feeling adrift, without direction, and this spring has felt like that as I've stayed cooped up at home. Although I may not have Mat to visit just a few blocks away, I do have a town filled with friends. And so as the calendar tells me I am now 35, it is time to reconnect with my people. :)

For now I wait 8,487 kilometers away, praying that Mat and I can be reunited. He's a pretty special guy after all. He's the man teaching me what it means to love as Christ loves. He's the man showing me every day what it means to love, honor, and cherish. And I am blown away. My daily prayer is that God will show me how to love in return.<3 br="">

Leaving in a flurry...and arriving quietly.

It has been fully eleven days since I returned from Athens, Greece, and have finally found the energy and desire to be productive. While my entire experience in Athens cannot be contained in a simple blog post, I can write about leaving and returning to Oregon.

Almost two years ago I entered a season in my life where God asked me purposely to hold my plans loosely, to let Him lead, and leave room for changes in my future vision. I said yes, but the last two years have not by any means been easy.

I am, by definition, a planner. I love to sketch out what my life will look like weeks, months, even years down the road. It provides structure and gives me some semblance of control over things when so much around me is out of my control. When plans change due to unforeseen circumstances, I tense up and get frustrated.

No! This is not how things are supposed to be! This is not how we planned it!

At that point, I scramble for ways to still achieve the same outcome even if the path to get there is different. I am flustered and irritated, but still try to regain control of the situation. This is my natural reaction to changes that are thrust upon me. I know, it's not pretty. I learned years ago that I am not a spontaneous person; not someone who can easily 'roll with the punches'. I will try to make the most of my situation, but that doesn't mean I will enjoy the process.

For this reason, my last five days in Athens was one plan falling through after another, and me scrambling to pick up the pieces and still make things work. It was a stressful disaster. I even struggled turning the situation over to God, even when I knew this was the very first thing I should have done when I got a hint of life shifting around me. It was as though I held sand in my hand and it kept slipping through my fingers. God wanted me to trust Him in His leading. Looking back now, I can see I was Peter walking out to Jesus on the lake, then looking around at the enormous waves and sinking. Yet He still caught me and brought me to a place of rest several days later in the form of self-quarantine under the watchful eye of my mother.

Slowly, over the course of a month, as news of the coronavirus continued to spread more and more, precaution became concern, which turned into alarm. We could see it all unfold in Asia in the comfort of our homes in Greece. But when it began spreading quickly through Europe, Greeks became distressed. It's incredible how quickly things changed in two days' time. People suddenly cared about all the germs on surfaces and cleaned in a frenzy. No one wanted to touch anything on the bus (I never wanted to touch anything on public transport!). Rumors spread of restrictions in shopping and transportation; then these rumors became reality as dining options became take out/delivery only. Travel alerts came from the US Embassy in Athens. And then on Wednesday, March 11, full-blown panic spread as President Trump announced the travel ban on European flights.

I received many concerned messages throughout the next two days since I was due to fly to the US on March 25. And the thoughts flooded in...Would I be able to get home? Should I change my flight? Do I need to leave right now? Each well-intended message caused anxiety to settle deep in my heart and mind. And my response was the same: "Yes, I've seen the report, but US citizens can still enter the country if the flights are operating." I hoped to reassure myself with every reply.

However, there were even more complicated issues at stake here. I was due to fly to Belgium on March 21 for several days before making the journey to America. But at this rate, would I even be able to make it to America if I wait? I was supposed to meet my boyfriend's family for the first time, and he was going to fly in from Spain for the introduction. But the trip to Brussels was hastily called off in light of a couple glaring reasons. The first being, Mat couldn't even make it out of his city, let alone to Belgium. And secondly, it would be unwise to visit his parents seeing how quickly the coronavirus spread.

And so under the advice of several people, the decision was made to leave as soon as possible. There was no reason to wait until the 21st, only to fly to Brussels and sit in a hotel for four days before flying home. There was also no reason to wait until the 25th (two days ago!) to fly to Brussels to catch a connecting flight home. Why wait when airlines were cancelling their flights in a frenzy?

On March 13 the hunt for a new flight began.  And the tears flowed. And I cursed in a room that looked like an earthquake shook my clothes out of the closet. And then I called Mat who lived over 3,000 kilometers away who calmly said he'd take care of it. Now I am not one to play the role of a damsel in distress -- ever -- but I am thankful he played the part of knight in shining armor so well.

Later that night I was hosting my own going away party -- my last 'hurrah' to celebrate the friendships I had made throughout the year. I had been organizing and packing like crazy, all while trying to look up flights with Mat. However, since airlines were being swamped with people snatching seats, cancelling bookings, or rerouting flights, airline websites were overloaded and weren't responding. It was torture preparing for a party with so much anxiety flowing through my veins.

An hour into the festivities I got a text that truly allowed me to relax and enjoy the company of my friends. The booking request had gone through! I would be flying out early on March 16. The rest of the night was filled with laughter, food from around the world (I am blessed with an international group of friends), and games. At one point a friend commented on how calm and relaxed I was in light of leaving in just a few days. She had no idea just how anxiety-riddled I was just a few hours earlier! As difficult as it was to say goodbye to friends -- we couldn't even hug goodbye with the virus looming over our heads -- I was so thankful that God brought each of them into my life.

The next two days were filled with cleaning and more sorting/packing -- what would remain in storage and what I would take back to America with me. I gave myself a deadline, beat it with a half hour to spare, and even found time to meet up with a couple more friends for goodbyes. I could not sleep at all, I was so anxious. Before I knew it I was standing in the check-in line three hours before my flight to ensure I still had a seat on the plane. The first leg of the journey took me to Istanbul where I had a short layover before flying to San Francisco. A myriad of thoughts filled my head: what if I didn't make the connecting flight? What if the flight was cancelled? What if I was questioned or detained because of extra measures for the coronavirus?

I was still so overcome by the wind and the waves, that all I could do was cry out to God to save me; all the while He was holding my hand saying "Why do you doubt me?" Despite my fears and anxiety, my journey was incredibly smooth. Luggage was not lost. Flights were not delayed. And customs was quick. My briefing with the CDC officer who met me after customs was short. Even my last flight to Pasco arrived a half hour early. Every little step was reassurance from God that He was still in control.

It was almost midnight by the time I arrived in Hermiston, but I knew the worst was over; my anxiety could be laid to rest. I was almost immediately sequestered in my room. After almost 48 hours of being awake, and a well-deserved shower, I could finally sleep in my own bed.

Self-quarantine -- or isolation as some prefer -- could be viewed as lonely and detached. After all, I was in my own home but haven't been able to touch my mother, brother, or sister-in-law since returning eleven days ago. And I suppose in some ways it is. But for me, this has been the best scenario for a return, all things considered. My original plan included coming home, turning in paperwork to begin working again, and trying to get sub jobs as soon as possible. God knew I needed rest, and time to process not only my last week in Athens but also my last year there. It has been incredible to be able to sleep, read, pray, and eat home-cooked meals from the comfort of my bedroom. And let's face it, I've also been catching up on American TV. But it has been so peaceful to just be without expectations, without waking up early, and even without responsibility. This is the beautiful silver lining of isolation.

God knew I needed solitude. He knew I needed a calm in the midst of the storm. Although this pandemic sweeping across the globe is certainly a storm, it has given me -- and all of us who are in isolation -- time to be. Time to think. Time to evaluate and re-evaluate our lives. And I realized, we don't need to fill our agenda with one event after another. We don't need to distract ourselves.

We need to be still, and know that He is God. (Psalms 46:10)

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.

A trip down memory lane

Feeling nostalgic, I started reading through my old posts from my first year teaching in Thailand, and it nearly brought tears to my eyes -- both tears of joy and longing.  I'm incredibly grateful that I had taken the time to record some of the day to day occurrences while I still had the chance.  Looking back at that time (especially when living in Asia was so new), there's no way for me to post-record some of my memories.  I'll still relay some of my experiences in places I visited, things I've done, places I stayed at (posterity reasons), but nothing will replace the fresh memory of moments with locals, students, colleagues, and the random stranger.  As years made the strange eventually familiar, my posts grew further apart, until there were literally years between posts.  I wish I recorded more of my first moments in Seoul, Korea in 2016. Instead of taking time for blogging, I used other social media platforms to convey the quick moments -- Facebook and Instagram -- but nothing can replace the online journal, as laboriously relay snapshots of my life overseas.

While I do not make New Year's resolutions, I feel a need to declare my desire to write more often.  Although "Hell is paved with good intentions," I feel secure in the knowledge that I am not on my way there.  However, the sentiment is not lost on me -- intentions without action are meaningless.  I will strive not to be meaningless with these intentions.

Some of my favorite memories I've read through involve my interactions with my beloved students (particularly my first class) -- that are now all adults -- but they sure were the cutest 8th graders I have ever had the privilege of teaching.  They taught me how to laugh, forgive, relax, and love like no other.
I poured myself into my first class of 8th graders.  It was my first year teaching, the first class I could intentionally influence, and they had a mind of their own! They had a living charisma, a personality I have never seen since.  Granted, each class after them also had their own distinct personality, but nothing like my 8th grade class from 2010-11.  Did I have favorites? Absolutely.  This entire class was my favorite out of all the classes I taught.  I could also say that about other classes for very different reasons.  But they were my first love.  I speculate it is similar to a mother who tells all her children they are each favorites.  But a first-born....they have a special place simply for being first.  A mother's love does not divide among her children, it multiplies.  And I continued to love each class that came after my first, continued to hone my teaching skills based on previous classes.

One day, hopefully soon, I will find my favorites and laugh over the ridiculous antics that took place in the classroom.  I hope above all hope that they don't grow up too much.  We all need to remember what made us laugh with abandon. <3 br="">

The road I never thought I'd travel

"A man plans his course, but the Lord directs his steps."

Prov. 16:9

I've told and retold this story so many times in person, it's about time I write it down.  This post gives you some background about when I decided to leave the education field and enter missions.  For now I'll be sharing more about the plunge into missions and how you can be a part of that.

Lesvos sunset, 2018

God first introduced me to refugees wayyyy back in 2010 when He brought me to Bangkok, Thailand.  I had agreed to help a coworker teach English to a large Pakistani family, and we ended up growing close over the next two years.  We were no longer just teachers and students.  We became a family during those two years.  I shared what I could about American culture to help prepare them for a life in the States.  They in turn shared their warm culture with us and their delectable culinary skills.

I wished I could devote more time to working with refugees, however, I couldn't figure out realistically how that would work.  I was teaching full time, after all.  I had to earn a living, didn't I?

I was wrong.

If I truly was relying on God to handle  my finances and future then I would have realized that I could devote myself to His work and not worry about financial stability (Phil. 4:6-7, Matt. 6:25-34).  The truth of the matter was, I needed to live my life as though I believed what God said in His Word -- after all, faith without deeds is dead (James 2:17).

In June of 2017, while volunteering with Lighthouse Relief, I was sitting on a rocky beach on a Greek island when I finally submitted to His will. And it was a relief.  I was struggling with teaching and I knew it.  God new it.  Ever since my time in Bangkok, I felt deep inside that I was headed toward something big.  Little did I realize it meant changing careers and moving to another country on another continent.  That's the beauty of God's plan -- it is far grander than anything we could imagine for ourselves, and will ultimately take a route we never saw coming.  I couldn't believe I was seriously considering quitting teaching.  At first I was startled, but I was immediately flooded with peace.

I was brimming with excitement.  This meant I could now devote all my time to working along side refugees without feeling like I should have a "real" job (i.e.: earn a salary).  So by June 2018 I headed back to Oregon without a definite time frame for heading into the mission field or what exactly I would be doing with refugees.  I had been in contact with Greater Europe Mission (GEM) since January, and was accepted as a one-year intern.  My plan has been to work as a substitute teacher in my hometown while I raise a year's worth of financial support.

Then in the month of August (before the school year really kicked off), I had the opportunity to go on a vision trip to Athens and the island of Lesvos to check out the ministry opportunities available.  I am so incredibly grateful for this trip!  Lesvos had my heart since I first volunteered last year.  I wanted to stay open to where God would led me, but if I were honest, I was pretty set on returning to the mission field on Lesvos.  But then God showed me the overwhelming work that needed to be done in Athens.  The families that want to integrate into Greek life.  The minors who are trying to reunite with their families.  The divide between Greeks and refugees caught in limbo.

And it broke me.

Even after my visit with the mission team on Lesvos, I was hesitant to give up my dream of returning to the island.  I desired Lesvos for selfish reasons, and sensed God was not drawing me there.  If I truly cared for the Kingdom, then I would have to be obedient to His calling.  He would take care of Lesvos with people He was equipping.  I am so thankful that God has brought me such peace through this entire decision-making process.  Although the need in Athens is great, two ministries in particular caught my eye, and can be found in this post.

Lesvos sunrise, 2018

"Now you are the body of Christ, and each of you are a part of it."

1 Cor. 12:27

It has not been easy, but God has been gracious.  I have never had to raise support of this magnitude before, so asking for financial support when I have always been self sufficient has been a humbling experience.  However, I also know, and have been reminded several times, that God equips certain people to go and certain people to stay.  Those He sends out of their home country are not alone, but are one part of the whole body of Christ.  We cannot all be proverbial feet, or ears, or eyes (1 Cor. 12:12-27) -- this was something I had to come to terms with.  I was not a failure if I couldn't do it all. God never expected us to be able to do everything.  And He never expected us to be everywhere.

Ultimately, His lesson is clear: we all work as one body.  All I can do is trust others to do what they are called to do, and support them as much as possible.

This is where you come in.  As I said, I cannot do this alone; which is why I am boldly asking you to join me on this venture.  If you have ever thought about ministering to asylum seekers and refugees, this is a wonderful opportunity for you! I need to raise $24,500 USD to live for one year in Greece, and I greatly need support!  I am confident God will supply this financial need.

Currently I am around 40% of my financial goal.  I would like to be in Greece by the end of January/beginning of February, however, I cannot set a 'launch date' until I have reached my goal; therefore these funds need to be in before the end of the year.

If you would like to make an end of the year donation, know that all financial contributions are tax deductible.  The best way to partner with me is through this link: www.gemission.org/missionaries/40130 and you may choose to make a one-time donation or become a monthly supporter.  This link operates similarly to a crowdfunding page, only it is directly through the GEM site.

Working with asylum seekers and refugees has weighed heavy on my heart for eight years.  Please consider helping this dream become a reality in the near future!  Let me know if you have any questions, and I will be happy to answer them!

-  Lissa 

On leaving my work in Asia behind

I struggle with the life I've left behind in Asia -- both in Bangkok and Seoul.  Naturally I miss many culture-specific things that I grew accustomed to.

 But this is not about reverse culture shock.  There will be other posts lamenting that ongoing struggle.  This is about guilt.  No matter how long I've been away, I cannot help but feel like somehow I quit. Somehow I gave up the race before crossing the finish line.  Somehow I didn't finish what I started.  Somehow. . . I lost.

Quitting carries such a negative connotation.  It implies giving up.  And giving up implies failure.  I don't want to fail at something I feel God has gifted me in.  I don't want to admit that everything I did overseas -- the countless hours invested in the classroom, in students' lives, in the lives of my coworkers -- was all for nothing.

But it wasn't for nothing.

Not a moment of it was.  I cherish the relationships I built with people during my time in Thailand and Korea.  I connect to places by the people I met there, and boy did God bless me with relationships!  Even the times I spent sitting in a classroom in a darkened hall trying to grade, prepare, lesson plan, set up, and sometimes even cry, taught me how to overcome obstacles and rise above challenges.  Sure, the work was difficult.  There was often too much for one day to handle.  But these were growing years, stretching years.  Interactions with friends and colleagues taught me much about myself.  I've had to eat humble pie more times than I can count.  I've had to learn to laugh at myself, and be gentle as I laughed at/with others.  I only pray these lessons stay with me as I drift through life.

But on days like today, I question my decision to leave Asia and teaching behind.  I doubt my decision to return to America.  I wonder if I gave up a good -- great, incredible, secure -- thing with people who have blessed my life immeasurably.  My gut clenches every time I think about sunny days in Asia: lounging on Thailand beaches, roaming the streets of Seoul, exploring incredible nature, laughing at yet another situation where foreigners collide with everyday Asian culture.  Not to mention gathering with friends every chance we got, creating music together, discovering another restaurant, sharing our struggles as believers and foreigners, connecting with students and sharing real life with them in ways I've never done in America.  And still my gut clenches because all the things I struggled and cried over don't hurt nearly as much as the things I rejoiced in now that I left them behind.  If I make a list of my blessings, they would far outweigh the difficulties, as insurmountable as they seemed at the time.

Oddly, the job that brought me to Asia is the one currently sustaining me.  I haven't quit teaching cold turkey.  I substitute teach middle and high school and enjoy it for the most part.  It reminds me that I could still teach.  If I wanted to.  Although it's not consistent work, it is work I can do, then leave behind when the bell rings.  No staying late grading.  No lesson planning.  Some teachers leave me fantastic lesson plans where things are laid out -- and sometimes I can actually teach (instead of playing a video)!  Others expect me to teach their class without any direction.  It can be frustrating sometimes, but the work is very flexible, and I am thankful.  However, I am still left with that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

God moved me from Asia, and I chose to follow willingly.  I do not know the future.  But He has given me a new direction and purpose.  I know this to be true with a resolution I can only account to faith.  Although that doesn't stop me from looking over my shoulder into the past, my only hope is to learn from what is behind me and press forward.

Who knows?  Perhaps He will bring me back to teaching.  Perhaps He will bring me back to Asia.  For now I find peace in knowing He is preparing me for a very different future than I have ever imagined.  And I cannot quit.

AIR CANADA

Reasons I will never purposefully fly Air Canada

- Operates like a budget airline
- 7am-2:30pm flight: no in-flight meal served; for purchase only.  At least they served me water!
- 1st flight: Entertainment system did not work for several rows (mine included)
- Overhead lights stop working
- 2nd flight (international): no entertainment system at all; must download app while in WiFi
- Minimal overhead storage for carry-ons for a pan-Atlantic flight - less space than most regular airlines
- Thin, cheaply constructed seats that are packed in; no adjustable headrest
- No USB charging
-*this flight was supposed to be operated by Lufthansa, but for no apparent reason, was switched to Air Canada. I would have rather flown with Lufthansa!

      

A couple Greek churches and their AMAZING impact

Back in September of this year, I had the chance to go on a vision trip to Athens and the island of Lesvos to check out the different refugee ministries that GEM partners with.

Athens in relation to Lesvos

In total, I visited five different ministries, but two particular ones in Athens caught my eye. This is a true testament to churches pouring themselves into reaching a people in need...

The first one is called Faros.  Faros, in Greek, means "lighthouse".  This ministry sprang up from a small church plant in the Exarchia neighborhood in Athens, and has grown tremendously! They focus mainly on refugee women and unaccompanied minors.  They run a day center for women to come and receive services and resources as they are living in Athens. Women can take language classes, get care for their toddlers/infants, shower, and speak to a number of different representatives from other organizations, including Doctors without Boarders.

Another facet of their ministry focuses on unaccompanied minors.  They have a shelter that can house up to 22 boys between the ages of 10-16 as they seek to reunite them with their family.  A vocational center sprung out of the shelter to meet the needs of these boys.  Through it, they teach young boys vocational skills they can take with them anywhere.  They have caught the eye of MIT, who is now partnering with them as volunteers teach crucial skills such as: carpentry, science/technology, tailoring/sewing, language lessons, etc. They are also hoping to open up the 2nd floor of the building for women, and build a similar program.  I am most excited about this center! I'd love to put my background as a teacher to good use! I know I'm not meant to put my teacher self in a box on a high shelf, it will always be a part of me, but it's going to take a different form.  I can't wait to see what that form is!

Bunk in the shelter

Sewing room in the Vocational Center

 Further evidence that the Exarchia church is investing everything into refugee ministry is shown through their actual church building.  They converted their church offices into temporary apartments for refugee families while the families work on integration and assimilation into Greek life.  Through their integration program, the families work with a social worker to get proper documentation so they can find stable work and their own housing.

The second ministry is a family integration home, called At Home Project, started by a church in Glafada, a town just south of Athens.  The purpose of this home is to assist refugee families as they integrate into Greek life.  This integration home is very similar to the one run by Faros, only At Home Project has the capacity to house more families and allow them to stay longer.  Refugee families are given about a year of living in a shared apartment with other families as they begin the integration process.  The apartment also has a small library and a clothing/baby supply distribution room to assist the families while they are living there.  Although a Greek social worker helps the families with all the official paperwork that needs to be processed, the Glafada church needs someone to be in the home regularly to build strong relationships with them, and help advise/encourage the family through the process.  They would also like someone to teach English to the families (which is right up my alley!).

One thing is clear with both ministries: they reach out by forming genuine relationships with those they are serving.  I do not speak Greek or Farsi.  I cannot assist with any legal documentation.  But both churches seek to form strong bonds with these families and build trust.  It is only through these relationships can Christ's love be shared.  It is not about proselytizing; preying on the vulnerable in their time of need. It is about reflecting the love of Christ. It is about sharing hope and light in a place plagued by darkness and hopelessness.