The Art of Letting Go – “Letting Go”

bikes-2619653_1920

Today’s guest post is from a new friend, Jodie Pine, that I’ve “met” online through Velvet Ashes, but then realized that we have MANY common friends on Facebook. Jodie has offered to re-post this article from 2013 from her blog Jodie’s Journal

Yesterday I watched my boys run off into the rain. One of them caught sight of a bus ahead and said, “That’s us. Do you want to run for it?” The other one immediately responded, “Let’s go!” And the next thing I knew they weren’t beside me anymore. As the distance between us grew, one of them turned around to yell, “Bye, Mom!” over his shoulder, while the other was so focused on the bus he never looked back. One of them was balancing an umbrella as they jumped and splashed their way through the puddles in hopes of reaching the bus in time. The other one didn’t want to bother with a silly umbrella. Because it’s manly to get wet.

My boys. The bookends of my life. Strong and sturdy. One on each side. So very different from each other. But so close. They’ve always been together, and they just seem to belong together. But one turned 18 yesterday. Soon he will go off to college in America and life is going to change. And as I watched the two of them, stride for stride, turning the corner together my heart ached. For them and for me. It’s hard. This leaving behind business. Because it involves letting go. And sometimes I just want to hold on. But time passes through my fingers like water. And I can’t stop it.

When I reached the end of the street and turned the corner, I smiled to see them huddled with the crowd at the bus stop. They told me, “It wasn’t the right bus.” And I thought about waiting with them until the right  bus came, just to get a few more minutes together. But I decided instead to encourage them to have a good time and to continue on in my wet walk (even with an umbrella) to the shopping area of our old neighborhood to get some things they needed for camp. And this time I was the one leaving them. But it was ok. Because I knew they would get on the right bus that would take them where they wanted to go. They would have a good time with their friends. And I would see them after dinner.

But this morning the boys left on a 40 hour train trip with three of their best friends to a TCK camp in southern China and it didn’t feel ok to me then. Because it wasn’t just this goodbye. It was the projected big goodbye and the reality that they will be gone for two weeks. After they get back to Lanzhou, our family will have less than two weeks together before CJ leaves for a month wilderness program in the US. And then we’ll have just about a week together in mid-August when we take him to freshman orientation at Notre Dame.

This morning, it seemed to me that during our past two weeks in Tianjin, I have been like a trapeze artist. Able to catch the outstretched arms of whoever is out there in a choreographed kind of rhythm. What activity is next. Who needs to be where. Graduations. Meetings. Medical appointments. MUN. Times with people. Kids’ sleepovers. Parties. What can we fit in. What needs to wait. How to coordinate. But this morning I couldn’t catch the hands out there anymore. My emotions hit rock bottom.  God, this is hard. I don’t want to do this. If I can’t go back in time and can’t stop time, could I push the fast forward button to get past this pain of letting go?

As I’ve been battling both migraine pain and emotional pain today, I’ve felt like my physical body and my heart have been like a wet towel in someone’s hands, who is twisting the ends in an attempt to squeeze all the water out. And all my energy and capacity have been drained.

Jordan decided to have a final sleepover with  her friends tonight before she leaves for the same TCK  in southern China tomorrow night (she’s flying instead of training) and I will be on my own here for another week of various activities, as Charly is already back in Lanzhou.

My rock bottom emotions today have brought me to a place of deep sadness. But even as I am typing this, I have a sense of renewed hope because I know that God will meet me right where I am, in this painful ache of my heart. He already has. It is comforting to know that I have heart friends close by who are praying for me, and that I can easily arrange to spend time with someone if I need to. But I really want to turn to God and hear from Him in this time of being alone right now.

I asked Jodie how things were now after four years. Here is what she wrote:

Four years after I struggled with CJ leaving for college on the other side of the ocean from us, we attended his graduation at Notre Dame (amazed that he had the honor of giving the valedictory address). Our family of 5 had grown to 7, through God’s fulfillment of our 6 year long adoption journey by bringing our Chinese sons David and Daniel to us just after CJ left for college. We then moved from Lanzhou, China to the US two years ago and launched Joshua into college (he chose Notre Dame as well). One year later I helped Jordan move into her dorm room at Calvin College. Through all these major changes for our family these past four years, God has remained faithful. CJ shared in his graduation speech that the song “Your Love Never Fails” really helped him through the transition across borders. “Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me.” God has continued to hold my hand through the ups and downs and it’s been a blessing to see each of my kids, both at home and on their own, develop their own personal faith in the God who never changes.

Thanks Jodie for permission to repost!

If you have a story about “Letting Go” you’d like to share, please email me at mdmaurer135(at)gmail(dot)com.

Advertisements

Book Review: HOMESICK by Jean Fritz

HOMESICK: My Own Story  homesick

by Jean Fritz

Genre: Middle Grade Memoir/Fiction

Summary:

Jean Fritz shares her life as a child growing up in the middle of China during the mid-twenties. She longs to go “home”. To a place she has only read about in letters from her grandmother, a place where she can feed chickens. And though this desire grows stronger as the date for departure gets closer, Jean shares her love for the Chinese people, especially her dear Lin Nai Nai. As with any good story, there is trouble and heartache. Through the eyes of a ten year old girl, Jean shares about the unrest that was developing in China towards the foreigners. Jean also shares her confusion of how her parents reacted to the death of her baby sister. We get a glimpse into the heart and mind of a young child who experienced so much.  At the beginning Jean informs her readers that most of the stories are true, that all of the people were real, but the events are not in chronological order. As a NF writer, this was very important to her to clarify. 

My Take:

Jean Fritz is a TCK. If you want to see examples of grief, frustration, and raw emotions from a TCK, sprinkled with humor and wit, get this book. Yes, it’s written for a middle grade child, but it really is a beautifully written memoir of a young TCK. If I write too much more, I’ll have to write a spoiler alert. I cried and I laughed – maybe partly due to the fact that we used to live in Wuhan, which is now a large city that includes Hankou and Wuchang, two cities that play a huge part in this book. Or maybe just the pain of saying “good-bye“. Either way, it’s good.

*****

Next week I will be starting the series on “The Art of Letting Go“. If you would like to write a guest post you can go back to the original post for the details.

The Art of Letting Go

 

child-1837263_640

Mothering a TCK has it’s up and downs. At times it is not for the faint at heart. The older my children get, the more I respect my mother-in-law. She raised three TCKs from birth in a country not her own, but also in a school system very different than the one she grew up studying under in Germany. Then as they graduated, she watched them board airplanes to travel around the world to begin their own life. Now her grandchildren are spread between three continents.

My kids have not started university, yet. My oldest has three more years, but it won’t be long until I say my “good-byes”. But, then again, I did just say good-bye to him a few weeks ago. He is not going to a dorm, but he does have the opportunity to play soccer with one of the international schools on the island. Unfortunately, it is too far to commute to from our home, so he is living with some friends for the next few months. As I write this post, I know he is in the middle of a game and it is killing me (and my husband, too). We wonder if he’s made a save (he’s the keeper), or if the wet ball has tricked him to dive in the wrong direction (it’s been raining the last few days). We both try to focus on other things, but then my phone lets out a BING. A friend sends me a video clip – the ball slipped between his hands. On my phone we watch the mini version of our son draw his hands up behind his head then smack his legs, a sign of frustration. This isn’t the first clip we’ve been sent. During previous games other friends have slipped us glimpses of him making some pretty good saves. This clip, though, is hard to watch – he can’t hear us cheering in our heads, “It’s okay. You’ll get the next one” and “You’ve got this, Bud.” And my heart is screaming…

This is so hard.

This isn’t what I signed up for (I don’t care if Dave Pollock told me 20 years ago that one day this would happen if I had children while living overseas).

Why isn’t teleporting invented yet?

As I lament, I’m reminded that I’m not the only one who can’t watch their son play a high school sport or long to have him sit at the supper table. I have friends who dropped their children off at boarding school. Some won’t see their children until Christmas. Others left their child, now an adult, at the university dorm room. They are not the first to do this. My mother-in-law was not the first. Parents of TCKs for over a century have had to learn the art of letting go, or maybe it’s thrust upon them.

I feel I’m just at the beginning. I know that there may be other sport seasons he will want to tryout for. He may even have the desire and opportunity to board someday. But, I do know that one day he will leave. He should leave. He must leave. He will become an adult. And though I know this in my head…

I miss him.

As moms we begin this letting go when our children take their first independent steps. They teeter, they wobble and most likely they fall, but eventually they get up and begin walking or possibly with some running. Or maybe it was when you dropped your child off for the first time at school. Walking away as you entrusted your child to another adult, possibly a stranger that spoke a language you barely understood. Those are the first phases of this process. So, whether you are at the beginning stage or getting closer to what seems like the final stage, I believe we could learn a few things from those who have gone before us.

I’d like to start a guest series called “The Art of Letting Go”. I know many of you have stories or tips that helped you. Letting go to allow your child to grow is an art – it is terribly painful, and even scary, but the artwork can be beautiful. So, if you have a story you’d like to share, a humble fail that you learned from, or even some tips to help those of us just starting on this journey please send a post. This can be as broad as a child going to university, into a dorm, or first time attending kindergarten.

You can email me in a Word doc. Each post should be around 500-800 words. If you feel you have something to share, but you are uncomfortable with writing, we could even set up an interview type post as well. I’m flexible. Please include a bio with any social media that you’d like people to follow. You can email me at mdmaurer135(at)gmail(dot)com.

*Photo from Creative Commons by Pexels

Overseas+Summer+Teens=what you make of it

Living overseas has it’s ups and downs. Most summers people “go back” to visit relatives and family friends. This summer we stayed put. We didn’t stand in any immigration lines. We didn’t hold boarding passes. We haven’t gone anywhere. Previous summers when the kids were little, we’d take them to splash pools, to the river to jump cliffs, or to the beach.

1507780_10152415025996143_7165777199028718453_nNow that they are older and want to make some money it is a bit tricky. If we lived in our passport country, they could easily work at a restaurant washing dishes, local grocery stores, or even line up odd jobs of mowing lawns. Here in Taiwan, that isn’t possible. They don’t have a work visa, so they are not allowed to legally work at establishments and there really are not many places that have yards that need to be mowed.

But, here are a few things they have been doing. Some is fun and some is for cash.

  1. Camp: The girls are still old enough to attend camp. It’s great because it’s mostly in Chinese, which is great for their language. And, it’s all day with kids their age doing fun things.
  2. Odd jobs: Family friends have hired our kids to do some odd jobs around their house. They’ve cleaned balconies, water and fed dogs, and even painted a deck.
  3. Bake Sale: Yes, in this heat our daughter plans to bake some treats to sell. This will have to happen after camp ends, of course.
  4. Apprenticeship: Our son is spending time everyday at a car mechanic shop to learn a bit about how to take care of cars and such. It is not a paying position, but he is learning and that is more often than not a payment in itself.

Other ideas?

  1. Babysitting
  2. “House sit” for another family that is gone – water their plants, check on their home

Just because we live overseas doesn’t mean our kids can’t learn the value of working for some money. From working they learn valuable life lessons that can help them with any job they may get when they get older. They also can learn how to handle their money in a responsible way.

What other ideas do you have? Share in the comments below. I know my kids are always looking for ideas to make a little cash.

Book Review & Give Away: LOVE, AMY: A MEMOIR TOLD IN NEWSLETTERS FROM CHINA

LOVE, AMY: AN ACCIDENTAL MEMOIR TOLD IN NEWSLETTERS FROM CHINA41ayswdy0ul

by Amy Young

Summary

Amy Young shares her life as a single English as a Second Language teacher in China. Her early years in China (mid-nineties) were spent at the Sichuan College of Education. This memoir is shared through her monthly newsletters to her supporters in the United States. This was an interesting time to be in China as the country was changing drastically from a poor quiet country who opened it’s gates wider to “foreigners” allowing more “western” influences to try to take root. The reader has the chance to “see” China during those transition years. Amy’s letters are fun and humorous as she relates the cultural differences in a loving way. She shares her traumatic experience of almost dying in a Chinese hospital and how she recovered and then chose to return afterwards. But, this book isn’t just a memoir, it’s a ‘how to’ book on writing newsletters. Amy shares how to write a better newsletter from what she has learned and from others who have read/written countless newsletters written by others.

My Thoughts

When I first heard about Amy’ health issues in China, I wanted to know more. Here was someone who also experienced trauma in China and not just survived to tell about it, but thrived and returned. Someone I could relate to. I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that it wasn’t just a memoir – though I do love reading memoirs of people who have lived overseas. I felt that her addition of a ‘how-to’ manual for writing newsletters was a brilliant idea. After reading her book, I still think it’s brilliant, but also I’ll add inspiring. I vowed to never write another newsletter again – but instead to write heartfelt letters, with stories and fun unique ideas for interaction –  not facts and a report.

I definitely recommend this book to anyone who is in a position of writing newsletters. You’ll be inspired and challenged to write them in a different way. And, who knows, maybe you’ll even like writing them.

The Give Away:

Amy has graciously offered to give away one copy of her book, LOVE AMY, AN ACCIDENTAL MEMOIR TOLD IN NEWSLETTERS FROM CHINA.

OPEN TO ALL READERS! If you live in the US, she’ll send a physical copy of the book, but if you live overseas she’ll send a digital copy. 

DETAILS:  Just simply leave a comment about why you’d like to read this book and your email address. I’m still “old school” in many ways, so I’ll just put names in a hat on July 7th and have one of my daughters pick out a name. I’ll make the announcement later that day and contact you via email to let you know.

DEADLINE:  July 7th at 10PM (let’s do US Eastern Time, as it is exactly 12 hours difference for me. So, easy to remember.)

Now, go comment and share this post with others. =)

Marathon Parenting

Two months ago I finished my first ever half marathon. That would be 21km of feet hitting 20170316_155509the pavement at a slow jog. Though my times were nothing to brag about, I finished and I have a medal to prove it. The medal is hung from a wide silk ribbon and it is in the shape of a hot air balloon. It is pretty, but let me tell you the race was anything but pretty.

Okay, parts were pretty. The location was in Taitung, Taiwan. Known for beautiful mountains and blue/green ocean. We started out in Forest Park, which is just that a park forested by trees. We ran towards the mountains. That means that I ran uphill for at least 3km of the race (I calculated), but it also means that I ran downhill 3km. The rest of the layout was flat along the river basin with the view of the mountains the first half. The last half I noticed rice fields flooded, rows of green tomatoes hanging from their tepee-like frames all while dreaming of the finish line and a cold green tea.

Because…

It was HARD! I mean I had trained for this day. It wasn’t like I just showed up and put on a number hoping that I’d finish. No, I’d spent the last six months building up my stamina for this day – and it was still hard.

It’s funny how your mind sees things differently when your body is in pain. Like those slight inclines turned into steep cliffs and the curves in the road became tormenting hairpin turns hiding the turnaround. Then the last 3km of the race perseverance was a must. No joke. I was back in the park when I saw the 3km marker. Seriously? I still have three more to go? But I’m in the park! My legs were feeling the burn, I had slight abdominal pain, and the sun choose to come out and shoot rays of hot fire at me. I got to the 500m marker and rounded the turn with a sharp inhale. Where is the balloon filled archway announcing the end?!?! I wanted to lay down right there. Another “more mature” runner was in front of me. He and I had been encouraging each other with the Mandarin phrase “Jia you”. With his encouragement we finished together.

It was during the last stretch that I remembered I had written an article comparing  parenting a child with special needs to a marathon with hurdles placed throughout the race. At the time of writing that piece, I had only run a 10k. I used testimonies of other long distant runners to write that piece, but I can now testify that I was pretty accurate.

A few weeks ago a friend reposted a quote on Facebook. She, too, is parenting a child with special needs. It said..

“Every parent plans to raise their child for about 18 years, set them free for 30 years and then hope they come back to help them face the final years of their own life. A SPECIAL NEEDS parent plans to raise their child for 65 years and while doing so also has to prepare for the other 20 or so after they themselves are long gone…. Let that sink in for just a moment and you will begin to understand the drive and determination that many of us have while we are here on earth.”

I don’t know who wrote that. It wasn’t me, but it was definitely the feelings I was having during that hot Sunday morning. Let me explain.

I sometimes feel I’m running uphill. Life is hard and sometimes a struggle. Let me give you a glimpse from our meal times: Jie Jie, who is now 13, but mentally about 4, has to have her food cut up into tiny bites so she doesn’t choke. We have to watch her closely when she feeds herself as she tends to take 3-4 huge bites at a time and proceeds to choke anyway. Then she gets upset with our oldest because he has his elbows on the table, and then she thinks her chair needs a cushion (although before the meal she said she didn’t) or we need a completely different chair altogether. By the time she finishes her meal, everyone else is done and the table is cleared.

I feel my body giving out. It has been reported in health studies that parents of children with special needs age quicker. This is due to the stress. Stress of child choking to death. Stress of child getting hit by a car. Stress of trying to plan for the future. Stress from the IEP meeting or trying to figure out how best to homeschool your child. These are just a few that I know parents deal with on a regular basis. For me my body gave out in the form of a sprained shoulder. I was in physical therapy for about three months repairing the damage, which we believe may have been caused from years of me daily tightening my neck muscles every time Jie Jie would grab me in a super bear hug squeeze. Some days this happens 10-20 times. I have a very tight neck.

I am tired and weary at times.  Many kids with special needs may not sleep all night long. Many parents go about their day on about 3-4 hours of sleep. Plus all the trips to the hospital for therapy, check-ups, and surgeries. Fixing supper? Laundry? Who has the energy?

I can’t see the finish line and afraid I never will. Just like those deceiving turns from the half marathon that blocked the finish line, I can’t see the finish line of parenting. And this is where that quote hit home for me – it can be overwhelming. This is when perseverance has to kick in. There are days I want to give up, but I can’t. I want to finish this life well.

But…(here’s the encouraging part)

We don’t run alone. Just like the other runners in my half, there are other parents who are running this race with me. They may not live in the same town, and maybe not even the same country, but, they are on social media. We are there to support and encourage each other in our knowledge, our joys, and even in our frustrations. We understand the pain and the fear. I am part of a Facebook private group for those dealing with the same syndrome that Jie Jie has. If you are not part of a group, I highly suggest either searching on Facebook or on a search engine.

Spectators.  Running through a small village near the mountain’s edge a few elderly people sat in white plastic chairs cheering us on. In life, I have people who come alongside me and help me. That morning of the race, a dear friend came to our home at 5:50am to be there when Jie Jie woke up so the rest of the family could complete their own race (yep, I signed everyone else up for the 10/5km).

Qualified Help. During the run qualified EMTs on scooters rode up and down the road ready to attend to those in physical need. As a parent of special needs, there may come a time when qualified help such a therapist, counselor, or psychologist is needed. Don’t shy away from mental health help. I just read in a local English newspaper here of a elderly Taiwanese man killing his sister who had special needs because of the stress from the past 30 years of taking care of her. None of us want that. We need to take action before it gets bad.

So, who are you?

  1. A runner? Parenting a child with special needs?
  2. Active spectator? Maybe you’re the spouse, the grandparent, the aunt/uncles, or maybe a friend who helps out. Thank you. Thank you for your help, your encouragement, your presence in our life.
  3. Sideline spectator? You see families, but not sure how to help. You may not even know anybody with a special needs – they are not in your line of vision. I have a challenge for you: First, look – you always see what you are looking for. Second, just smile and say “Hi”. Seriously, just that small act of kindness speaks volumes to us. It’s a reminder that we are human and that you acknowledge that we and our children are humans

Just as the scenery during my half marathon was beautiful, a small act of kindness brings beauty to a harsh world – no matter if that person has special needs or not. I challenge you to do one small act of kindness this week to anyone, but you’ll get extra points and a virtual medal if you do it for a family touched by disability.

Book Review: LOOMING TRANSITIONS Amy Young

LOOMING TRANSITIONS: Starting and Finishing Well in Cross-Cultural Service

by Amy 28256660Young

Summary: LOOMING TRANSITIONS is a navigational book to help those who are in the process of transitioning in a cross-cultural setting. It does not tell you what to pack or not to pack, but rather the emotional process that goes with big moves. Amy has lived this cross-cultural life and repatriated to her home country of the United States, so she understands all the ups and downs. She has also written a workbook for individuals to accompany the book, as well as, an activity book for families to help their children work through the transition.

My Thoughts: I bought this book last spring and just finished right before Christmas. It isn’t a long book, nor is it boring. In fact, I enjoyed Amy’s candid transparent voice as I read. It took me over seven months because my mind could only handle chunks at a time. I needed to process some areas from many moves ago. Reading this book brought to mind thoughts and feelings I had regarding those moves. I’ll be honest, I haven’t read the workbook or the activity book all the way through – but by just glancing at it I know that I will be using them both when we make our next move (which I pray isn’t too soon).

And as I was writing this review, I found out that it is the one year anniversary for this book. If you’d like to read more about how this book came about and receive some coupons for the book (one being a free audio download!), visit Amy at her website The Messy Middle.

Beach Therapy…for my daughter with special needs

I don’t remember publishing this piece, but I’ve updated it –

raisingTCKs

20151003_162231For the past nine years we’ve found ourselves living as educators/cross-cultural workers/Christian workers (we’re still figuring out what to call ourselves) on an island that sits on the brink of the Pacific Coast. I have come to realize that being on the beach with a good book and drink is therapeutic to the mind, body, and soul. There is just something about the whooshing sound of the waves, the warm sun and sight of green mountains, blue sky, and blue/turquoise water that just makes me exhale deeply. Seriously, just writing about it I exhaled…

While I quickly discovered this amazing way to relax – remember I grew up in Midwest, USA – I had NO idea how taking my daughter with special needs would be beneficial to her as well. And to be honest, living overseas makes it difficult sometimes to find therapies for our TCKs with special needs. So, I love it when…

View original post 463 more words

Beach Therapy…for my daughter with special needs

20151003_162231For the past nine years we’ve found ourselves living as educators/cross-cultural workers/Christian workers (we’re still figuring out what to call ourselves) on an island that sits on the brink of the Pacific Coast. I have come to realize that being on the beach with a good book and drink is therapeutic to the mind, body, and soul. There is just something about the whooshing sound of the waves, the warm sun and sight of green mountains, blue sky, and blue/turquoise water that just makes me exhale deeply. Seriously, just writing about it I exhaled…

While I quickly discovered this amazing way to relax – remember I grew up in Midwest, USA – I had NO idea how taking my daughter with special needs would be beneficial to her as well. And to be honest, living overseas makes it difficult sometimes to find therapies for our TCKs with special needs. So, I love it when I can do things that I know are beneficial and inexpensive.

1. Digging in the sand – She uses both fine and gross motor skills as she digs holes and her sandpit is HUGE.
2. Filling buckets – with the sand that she just got from digging holes and also the countless trips back and forth to fill up the buckets with water to pour into the holes.20151003_160440

3. Sand – Just the texture of the sand itself is therapeutic. Many kids don’t like it, so they have to be introduced to it over and over – but others, like my daughter, LOVE it. For us, we had to teach her that it was not okay to put it in her mouth.

4. Running/walking in the sand – If you’ve ever tried running on the beach yourself, you know the workout you can get from it. Enough said.

5. Standing in the waves – This really depends on how strong the waves are. Of course, if they are pretty strong – then do not put your child in the water. But if the waves are mild, then the constant motion is great for balancing. *

6. Jumping the waves – I know our PT has worked with us on getting Jie Jie to jump and this is a fun way to jump over something.

7. Collecting shells – We can work on balance as she 20150919_160228bends over to pick up the shells and walking without dropping the shells out of the bucket.

8. Playing with the hermit crabs -Jie JIe is an animal lover, and last month her younger sister introduced her to hermit crabs. She loves picking them up and letting them scurry across her hand or trying to scare me with them.

9. Boogie boarding – My daughter is not able to do this completely on her own, but she loves to lay on the board and let the waves take her in and out. We also go out with her sometimes and help her catch a wave that is a bit farther out.

20151004_155155

10. Surfing – I’ve not had the opportunity to do this, but from reading about Surfer’s Healing, it is something I’d love for her to experience. Below is a picture of her out in the kayak with her dad – this girl loves the beach.20151003_151111

We’ve just moved to a new city, finally – but transition is rough. I think tomorrow we are in need of some therapy….beach therapy.

* Always be extra careful when taking your child with special needs out into the ocean. We always have Jie Jie wear a life-vest even when the water seems calm.

Your Turn: What are some activities that you have found therapeutic to you and has been good for your children as well? Please share below.

 

The Leaving Series Part 2: Leaving with Traditions

Welcome to Part 2 of the Leaving Series. If you want to read the first story click here. Today’s story comes from Beth Everett. I have not officially met Beth, but we have mutual friends and I’ve gotten to know some of her story through her writing around the web. Today she shares more about the transition that she is currently going through and how she is helping her children in the process.

We are right smack dab in the middle of transition. As I am writing this, the countdown calendar stuck on our bedroom door says we have 10 more weeks before we say goodbye and leave our home in China of almost nine years. 10 weeks! It feels like yesterday when I noted the six-month mark. So many emotions, so many thoughts on my heart waiting to be expressed.

One thought comes to mind now that I’d like to share…

 Leaving with Traditions

 Once we started our family almost eight years ago I had a desire to establish our own unique family traditions; the kind of traditions associated with special holidays such as Christmas and Easter. Over the years these have involved several things including special handmade decorations used every December as we read through the Jesus Storybook Bible; or the resurrection eggs that we hide in our neighborhood garden for the kids to find.

This past Easter I had been so wrapped up in the process of our upcoming move that I almost forgot about the little plastic Easter eggs … but my kids didn’t! They found them in the action packer that is being packed up with all of the other family tradition items. And so we made a plan for our annual Easter Sunday’s afternoon activity in the garden. I’m so glad we did not miss out on this fun opportunity to celebrate both the Resurrection Joy as well as keep some sense of stability with this tradition. Although many of the other details of celebrating Easter will change in our new location, our family-Easter-egg-hunt is now an established tradition that we can do anywhere.

first

So we will pack our plastic eggs and look forward to hiding and finding them in a new garden next year.

Also on the list to be packed away for the move are a pretty round floral tablecloth, and several teacups, saucers and dessert plates. This past January, as we approached our six-month mark to departure, I wanted to try to establish a place and time when we purposefully paused in the day to find out how everyone was doing … a “how was your day?” kind of thing. My kids are still little (7yrs and 5yrs) so the conversations are not terribly deep, but a rhythm in our family life is being established. Several times a week, after I pick the kids up from the bus stop we have ‘teatime’. We have done it enough times, with the same tablecloth and accessories, that we can now call it an afternoon tradition. The kids eagerly anticipate it and chatter away about their day at school. During these times we have been able to talk about things they are going to miss, how they are feeling about the move, and also things they are looking forward to. Having this tradition in place seems to be helping with making conversations about leaving more natural in general.

second As a mom, this warms my heart, and I also look forward to pulling out that tablecloth on the other side of this big move, and finding a new yet familiar rhythm for sharing and debriefing in our new place.

But not all traditions involve items that need to be physically packed up for the move. Bedtime routines with the kids are now tradition too … a story, followed by each family member saying something they are thankful for about that day, and prayer time led by daddy. This routine will remain the same wherever we go even if we are stuck in a hotel in transit, or living in a temporary setting until we figure out where our more permanent home will be. I am hoping that even this simple nightly family tradition will provide some level of normalcy in the midst of the upheaval that inevitably comes with transition. And finally, one other tradition that reminds this mom, and hopefully her two little munchkins, that God is in control through every season of life: the tradition our family calls “Looking for God’s Surprises”.

third One bleak, gray, cold winter evening several years ago, I looked out across the city from our tenth floor apartment window and saw the sun determined to say farewell to the day through the haze. With a perfect circular orange glow (unfortunately seen more easily because of the pollution barrier) I felt as if God was whispering to me “I am here even in the midst of dark cold days! Look for me … you’ll always find me.” I called my kids to look out the window to see God’s surprise for us at the close of that day. Since then we have taken time to point out to each other God’s surprises in the sunrises and sunsets (both of which we can view from opposite sides of our apartment!), a rare full rainbow across the city, dainty ice formations in the dead of winter, a perfectly blooming rose along a messy roadside construction site, and many others. Even when traveling, daddy has been known to send us a picture and text message from his point of view of the setting sun before entering the train station, in order to share with us God’s surprise.

The phrase “Come see God’s surprise” has now become a tradition in our family, and one that we can take with us wherever we go, reminding us that no matter what the circumstance are, God’s beauty and presence does not cease to exist and we can find glimpses of it when we open our eyes with expectancy to see what is around us.

With all of the people, places and things we have to leave behind us as we relocate, it is with a deep sense of peace that I know we do take with us both memories and traditions. Cherished memories that can be reflected upon, and family traditions that can be continued.

Traditions provide stability, anticipation, hope and joy when shared together with those we love most … all things I long for, both during the intensity of transition with all of its loss and uncertainty, as well as that time when we finally feel settled again.

Thanks Beth for sharing today! 

BethBeth was born on the island of Barbados, in the West Indies. Her husband was born in America and her two children were both born in China. She likes to refer to her family as the A-B-C family (America-Barbados-China). She has lived almost all of her adult life in cultures and countries other than her original. This summer she will be relocating to Barbados, and learning how to adjust from living in a city of millions to living on a small island with her husband and kids.

 

If you want to share your story with us please email me at mdmaurer135{at}gmail{dot}com your story in a Word doc along with some photos. I’ll be posting one story every Thursday!