Transitions in 2015: Joyce and James answer all your questions!

Thank you to all who read my week-long series of reflections on our upcoming move in 2015. I was encouraged by the number of people who read along with me and sent supportive comments. As promised, here is a final post in the series, in which we answer all the questions you sent us. Actually, it was only two questions, and they are best answered by Joyce and the kids. So I'll move aside and let them write this FAQ:

From Joyce:

Thank you so much for reading and commenting on our transition blog posts. I especially appreciate all of you who said that you will be praying for us throughout this time!

One long-time friend in the US asked: 

So how are your boys with the idea? They will be leaving their home that they have lived in all their lives and entering an entirely different culture. I have read that it's hard for missionaries to transition back to the states sometimes. . . . I'll be praying for you guys, and especially the boys.

That’s a great question. I think that for all three boys, the response is a mixed one—excitement (America seems somewhat like a theme park or holiday spot for our kids, who’ve grown up in Papua New Guinea and have only experienced their home country on furloughs); sadness (they are leaving all of their friends, their school, and the relaxed, outdoor PNG lifestyle behind); apprehension (what will full-time real life be like in the US?); trust (in God and in their parents).

We asked James (13) to write a response, and here it is:

I have mixed feelings about leaving Papua New Guinea. Sometimes I feel like I can’t wait for the trip. I think ahead to everything we’ll do and see in America, to seeing my family, to the new opportunities at a new school. But at other times, I think about what I’m leaving behind. As far as I’m concerned, PNG is my home. My house is here, my school is here, my friends are here, and I’ve lived here most of my life. When I return to America, I’ll be starting from scratch with a new school, new friends, a new country, and a new culture. It’s a strange thought that not everyone I know will be Christian anymore. It’s strange to imagine a school that isn’t Christian, with completely different teachers, schedule, buildings, and traditions than my school here. It’s even strange to imagine going to a school with the Star-Spangled Banner on the flagpole. I’m so excited for the change, and yet I want to savor every moment left in PNG. I have to remember that in America, our house probably won’t have a beautiful view of green mountains or a huge, grassy yard. I have to remember that in America, I won’t go to sleep to the noise of chirping crickets and buzzing cicadas, and I won’t wake up to the calls of tropical birds in the trees. There’s so much to look forward to in the life I’m moving on to, and so much I’ll miss in the life I’m leaving behind. I will be praying for God’s support as I enter the world of skyscrapers, fast food, and paved roads.

The other question we received, from another long-time friend (but here in PNG), is directed to me: 

The blogs talked about Neil and a bit about the kids. But they never mentioned your plans. What will you be doing in the US? Ukarumpa International School will be losing a great English teacher.

My response is more difficult because I am stepping into the unknown. As you know if you’ve read our blog posts or newsletters, I love teaching at Ukarumpa International School (UIS), where I’ve been blessed to teach 11^th and 12^th grade English, including 8 wonderful AP English classes over the years, and I’ve been the English Department Chair for the past three years. There’s nothing I love more than teaching English. And UIS has been a delightful place to teach: caring administrators and colleagues, all sharing the same vision and mission; few discipline problems; the opportunity to get to know students outside of class, as fellow community members; no limits on the integration of faith and learning—I can teach literature the way I studied it at Wheaton. We also joke that there’s great job security, since each teacher is desperately needed and not easily replaced. (There are also plenty of jokes about the salary and benefits—UIS doesn’t pay its teachers; we are missionaries supported by our home churches, family and friends. As you can imagine, this makes UIS a wonderful bargain for the students!) The good news is that God has provided TWO wonderful, experienced English teachers to carry on at UIS after I leave—a confirmation to me of God’s grace and leading. 

Obviously, job dissatisfaction is not what’s leading me back to the US. In fact, ever since I felt my “call” to full-time missions as a 9-year-old, I’ve always determined that my call is to overseas work. It’s been hard in some ways to let go of that ideal. I’ve had to accept that the call to follow Christ means obedience wherever he leads. I’ll admit that there’s a fair amount of pride; deep down, I always felt that serving overseas was the better choice, and that if one could go overseas, one should. Now Neil is being called to serve God's kingdom by helping to train arts workers who will go to the four corners of the earth. And though I’m giving up my “dream job,” I feel utter peace and even joy as I look forward to the future. Why? Because this was not a sudden decision. It was the fruit of much prayer, fasting, reading, input from people we trust—and much “counting the cost” (Luke 14:27-33). And ever since we made the decision, we’ve seen confirmation after confirmation that it is good.

But what will that future be? We know what Neil will be doing—and he is so excited about the work ahead of him! My main responsibility will be easing the family’s transition to a radically different way of life. Our children are "third culture kids" (TCKs). For such young people, their only true compatriots are their fellow TCKs. Our sons are not truly Papua New Guinean, nor are they truly American. This website gives a good explanation of TCKs: http://www.cmhnetwork.org/media-center/morning-zen/the-trouble-with-third-culture-kids Here’s an excerpt:

TCKs are the children of international business people, global educators, diplomats, missionaries, the military  -- anyone whose family has relocated overseas because of a job placement.  The children attend international or host-country schools, or are sent to boarding schools, or are home-schooled.  They are supposed to be coming home -- even if they’ve never lived here, even if they’ve only been back on furlough.  Often, this is their most difficult relocation.  There are nearly a million in international schools around the world; others in Department of Defense schools on international military bases; countless numbers returned to their passport countries of origin.

Rebecca Grappo, an educational consultant who specializes in the placement of these children, says there are three basic things all children need:  belonging, recognition and connection.  For TCKs, these basic needs are ripped away with each move.  Powerless in the decision to relocate, their many losses are often not acknowledged even by their own parents, and the main problem is unspoken, unrecognized, shunted aside.

It looks like depression, but it’s not.  This is the face of TCK grief.

And, according to Ruth Van Reken, unresolved grief is the most urgent mental health issue facing TCKs -- the children as well as the adults they will become.

(Here are some more articles on missionary re-entry/ MK transition, if you’re interested: http://www.missionarycare.com/dbListArticles.asp?TOPICID=84)

It is very important to Neil and me that we not gloss over our sons’ grief—that we acknowledge it and help them resolve it and adjust well to their passport country. I want to be available for all the “teachable moments” in that first year back in the US—and technically, we will be on furlough for our first nine months back, which means we need to be free for traveling, not tied down to a school’s schedule—so at this point, I plan to homeschool our boys for our first year in the US. We also hope to buy a house for our family in that first year, and I expect to bear a large part of the responsibility for making that house a home. During that first year back in America, we will consider all of the possibilities available to us for schooling the boys (they’ll be in grades 9, 6, and 2) and prayerfully consider what will be best for each one. Along with that decision, we’ll be able to consider if and when I should return to work, and what that work will be.

Thank you so much for praying with us through these difficult decisions, and for me as I work through the grief of leaving a job I love. For years I’ve taught seniors at UIS and witnessed their unique combination of wanting time to slow down so that they can relish each “last” moment in their adopted country of PNG while at the same time feeling excited (and uncertain) about what lies ahead after they graduate and leave PNG for their passport countries . . . this year, I am a senior, too.