When Home Feels Foreign

They* warned me about this. Well, not about this exactly, but about “reverse culture shock.” They told me home would feel different than I left it. Living in another culture changes you, and they told me about the expectations I would face to be the same as I once was. About the pressure I would feel to either revert to my former self or hide away instead of reengaging. They told me I might be overwhelmed or even frustrated with my home culture. They taught me how to share with friends who cared— who could see the difference in me but didn’t know what questions to ask. There was a lot of general advice about how to make the re-entry process as graceful as possible. They taught me how to come home.

But here’s the thing: I didn’t come home. Not really. I spent a month with my parents in my hometown, which was the perfect landing pad. I had a lot of time for reflection, journaling, prayer, and processing with Jesus as I took my pup on leisurely walks around the lake. I kept waiting for the struggle to hit, and it didn’t. I started to think I had somehow miraculously avoided the whole thing.

But then the month ended, and I found myself in a new town. Granted, this new town is only a few miles in any direction from places a little more familiar, but it's still new. Most of my friends have moved away. I have to discover my new favorite coffee shop and navigate a new grocery store and find a new church to call home. I can’t find my way around my new Target and I still have to use a navigation app to find my way out of my neighborhood. Everything is new. But I’m new, too.

And that’s just it. I received all kinds of training for returning to the place I left, but none for being the new kid. Living in the DR changed me. It changed my heart, my mind, the way I talk, the way I see people, the way I listen to people, the way I invest in relationships, the way I view the world and language and culture… it changed me in ways I may not even be aware of. I am still learning new aspects of this new me; in some ways, I am getting to know the girl inhabiting my body all over again.

So what do you do when introducing yourself to new people feels a little like introducing a stranger? They don’t know who I was before or who I’ve become in the past year. So what do I include? How much do I share? How do I explain this life-changing experience in a way that gives the Lord glory for all He has done, without being that person that talks about their exciting life overseas in every other sentence? I don’t know yet, but something tells me there is purpose in this journey of figuring it out.

I know this may sound like I am in the middle of an identity crisis. Thanks for your concern—I promise I’m fine. I am typically much more comfortable sharing these things once the Lord and I have resolved them privately and I can tie a pretty bow on them before presenting them to the world. But I started this blog with the intention of sharing how He was working during my time in the DR, and I think I would be doing a major disservice if I gave you all the idea that His work was finished the day my plane landed at LAX. I want Him to receive every ounce of glory for what He did there, for what He is continuing to do there, and for the work He is continuing in me here.

So there it is. To Him be the glory.

* I use “they,” of course, in the collective sense of the word— authors, books, training manuals, mission-themed blogs, friends, mentors, etc.