Occasionally, when talking to certain insightful others, a light-bulb goes on. Rare moments for me, but I had one yesterday.
I realised that the angst I have against the world (in general and in particular) is mostly from a belief that no-one is really interested in hearing MY story. Wherever I go, I feel that a significant part of me has to be laid aside, because of a deep-seated belief I hold that whoever I am with will only understand experiences we have in common.
Perhaps that’s why I started this blog. Not because of an altruistic drive to help others… but, purely selfishly, so I could tell my story.
So, how important is it to tell one’s story? And what do YOU do to let your story be told?
Tags: community
Welcome to the new look for third-culture-kid.com!
I really liked the site’s original Mandigo which had the right mix of functionality and ease of use (for me). But it needed a colour-change, which I was not proficient enough to do myself.
I am experimenting with several themes (among them Atahualpa and Blue Grace). So far Blue Grace is the winner, but I need to work out sundry items like three columns and header spacings.
And yes, paper boats are still in. One day I’ll tell you all about them.
A friend recently observed that there are two people in her. ‘Normally, I am a rational, self-controlled, mature woman. But there are times when the little girl that I was comes out, with all her insecurities, and controls what I do.’
She speaks of emotionally trying times. Sometimes these are when matters of the heart are preeminent in her thoughts. Sometimes they are when she encounters hurt.
My friend is insightful. The little girl in me, who has her own share of insecurities, leaps unaccountably to the fore when I least want her to. ‘Darling,’ my mother says. ‘We’re running out of milk’. The rational me would answer, ‘Yep! It’s on the list’. Instead, I snap back: ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, I know that already!’ My mother’s innocent comment triggers an old, old reflex within the little girl who felt deeply inadequate among the much-older, much more life-experienced people around her.
It becomes more complicated in my marriage. There isn’t just a little girl who comes to the fore. You guessed it: there’s a little boy who marches out too, demanding his share of attention. Ever seen pre-schoolers in a play-ground? It isn’t pretty among adults.
I think my friend’s analysis is spot-on. It’s another tool with which to interpret my extraordinarily unpredictable relational behaviour.
Her solution? She says, ‘I have to talk to that little girl and calm her fears.’
I’m off to do the same. 
Tags: insecurity, self-identity
Warning: this post contains strong religious sentiments that could offend some and overt sentiment which could offend others!
I have a secret to tell you: I like hymns. There – it’s out! But don’t judge me too harshly. It’s all because of a childhood isolated from pop culture. The hymns of my parents have stood through my faith’s formation.
One hymn in particular runs through the thousand changes in my life. I can remember the first time we met.
It was about twenty-five years ago, in a church in the north of England. The minister was enthusiastic as he introduced a new hymn from their new hymnal. It spoke of God making peace with us, giving our lives hope – now and in the future.
My mother loved it. When we returned to our African home she looked it up in a Baptist Hymnal that a friend had supplied. I learned to play it. The hymn spoke of God and His unfailing goodness.
The hymn book returned to our birth country with us. The hymn spoke of God providing for every need we would have – even when we couldn’t see it happening.
When I arrived in Australia I found that our family favourite was listed as one of the most-loved hymns of all time. It speaks of how God alone is constant, totally dependable in any situation. My family still sing it at significant birthdays and anniversaries.
It was sung in churches after the tsunami came and killed thousands. My birth country was one of the hardest hit. It was surreal because our first child, half-Sri-Lankan, was born the morning after. The hymn was sung again last month after Black Saturday’s bush-fires.
My father died two weeks before those fires. We sang the hymn at his funeral. It is testament to that single Thread that ran through his life: many-coloured but importantly, scarlet. It ran from birth to manhood, old age and death: a life stretched across three very different continents.
The hymn is?
‘Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father There is no shadow of turning with Thee…‘
If you live in the U.S. or Canada, visit Hope Publishing to view the lyrics.
If you don’t, they have been reproduced by permission at Lee Marshall Music.
Note that copyright of this hymn is held by Hope Publishing, and it cannot be reproduced in any form without prior written consent from the copyright holder.
If you’re after a bit of background on the hymn, try www.hymnary.org.
Tags: grief, Music, natural disaster
My apologies for the long silence. So far 2009 has turned out to be the Year of Change!
First, as a family, it was time to farewell a significant part of it. We have been celebrating the life of, and saying goodbye to one of our closest loved ones.
Then Black Saturday 2009 came. Australia suffered devastating bush-fires. We have felt the pain and been powerless to assist as tens of thousands of hectares were burnt, killing hundreds and making thousands homeless. Please, if you are able to but have not yet donated to recovery efforts, may I direct you to Red Cross Australia’s site? Thank you.
Finally, as a family unit, we are facing a life-change as an indirect result of the global economic crisis. This has left us pondering next steps and new directions.
Enough writing material here for the next few months!
Thank you for reading. Stay tuned as life continues…
Tags: Black Saturday 2009, global economic crisis, grief, natural disaster
I thought I had all the puzzle pieces, and then I went ‘home‘.
That place is one of many I call, to some extent, by that name.
When I went to that home, I discovered that perhaps not all of who I am, what I think, and how I feel, are because I am a TCK.
I am part of a wonderful family. But my quirks, and even my family’s quirks – endearing and otherwise – might always have made me a little different, even in my birth country.
I am who I am because I am a TCK. I am also who I am because I am the daughter of my parents, and the granddaughter of my grandparents. I am also who I am because of where I fit into my immediate family. I am who I am because…
The list seems endless. We are very complex beings! Just when we think we have ourselves worked out, another piece appears.
Wikipedia says: A puzzle is a problem or enigma that challenges ingenuity.
Tags: self-identity
Gaza is on my mind, as I am sure it is for many people. This was going to be a silent post (though how, I don’t know), because I can’t write anything cohesive about it. The situation is complicated. It can be looked at on so many levels, and I fear that no one solution will appease at all those levels. There are the many groups who can lay claim to that area. There are the people, on both sides, who are being killed, maimed, and traumatized by the violence. There are political agreements that have shaped Gaza’s destiny over the years. There are promises that have been made. The responsibility for the creation of the present Gazan situation lies with many groups, even groups that appear disconnected from the situation as it is. Then there is, of course, the religious aspect.
Perhaps ultimately it is not about religion, politics, or even heritage. It is perhaps mostly about people, and how people relate to other kinds of people. It is perhaps about people afraid of trusting others, because they perceive that others, rightly or wrongly, have been untrustworthy. Perhaps it is about perspectives that people have been fed, by ancestors, by neighbours, and anyone else who has fingers in this pie, in order to ensure the survival of something, or some things. Perhaps it is about us all.
I guess this wasn’t a silent post after all.
Minette Marrin has written an article on creative writers and political commentary:
Pinter and the odd literary law of geniuses with crazy politics
While not directly related to TCK matters, it is about perspectives, something TCKs grapple with early – and even, perhaps, grapple with all their lives.
Worth thinking about if, like me, you love creative writing.
Tags: Creative writing, perspectives, politics
Last Friday my post-office box was not empty, as is usually the case, but stuffed full of my very first copy of Among Worlds Magazine – and I was so excited! That evening, as my kind husband put the kids to bed, I soaked up its contents. Today I have decided to write a review (of sorts).
Among Worlds is a magazine for adult Third Culture Kids, written by adult Third Culture Kids. The copy I received is for December 2008. This issue has eleven feature articles. Stories of real-life TCKs abound. In ‘TCKs of Note‘, Apple Gidley writes about eight talented TCK musicians. Dorothy Alston Calley, M.A. writes about the man behind TIME magazine, Henry R. Luce – also a TCK. Deb Kartheiser interviewed Astronaut Shannon Lucid, who, in 1996, set the U.S. single mission space flight endurance record on Russia’s Space Station Mir. Yes, Shannon is also a TCK. And then there is a tribute to the late Norma McCaig, founder of Global Nomads International, by her friend and fellow ATCK, Ruth Van E. Reken.
But that’s not all. John Paul Kilmer’s ‘Being‘ strikes a chord with me – like him, I want my ‘doing’ to flow out of my ‘being’, but often find it’s the other way around. Lyn Anderson’s ‘Gifts from the Heart‘ looks at what goes on behind gift giving and receiving – for me, a struggle with every new culture and context. Kent Hori writes about TCK friends in ‘Friends are Friends Forever‘ (the title is from Michael W. Smith’s song of the same name). Lisa McKay’s article ‘The Chicken or the Egg‘, is a light-hearted look at the art of living together. And ‘At Home in the World‘ by Cynthia Shigo contains great advice for parents of TCKs.
I’ve left my two favourites to last. ‘Living Authentically‘ by Kathleen F. Rubin, M.A, is about the common TCK struggle, to find out how all the authentic pieces of one fits into whatever context one is currently in. ‘Finding Healing within Your Being‘ is by Miyon Kim, who is a regular contributor on tckid.com. With her characteristic gentle wisdom, she talks of her own journey towards healing.
The verdict? Worth subscribing to if you are a TCK/ATCK, or are a parent of one. To do so, visit Interaction International, who publish Among Worlds.
Warning: I am mounting my little soap-box. If you have strong views on Christmas, you may find this post objectionable!
My childhood Christmases below the Sahara were low-key. Four people singing carols around a tiny Casio keyboard. A small prayer-time. Eating my mother’s ‘paal-choru’ (milk rice). Exchanging visits with expatriate neighbours, mostly non-Christian. Hardly any Christmas decorations. Inexpensive gifts exchanged between families – perhaps a box of chocolates for some Christmas cake. It is possible my memory is playing tricks on me, but I am fairly certain that if I was given a gift, it was for my birthday – not Christmas. I remember reading books about Christmases overseas, longing for that opulent glow.
I now live in a city where that opulence is easy to create. How incongruous that here many find Christmas difficult. Budgets, already strained, crack under the weight of Christmas trappings. We try to capture something we once had, or longed to have. For those who have lost loved ones, grief is keener at Christmas. The pain of a broken family is more intense, as children miss out on Christmas with one, or both, parents. We feel disconnected from society in some way – lonely.
As I chat with people, loneliness is named most often as the reason why people find Christmas difficult.
It’s easy to say lonely people have the wrong perspective. Let’s look deeper. Our letter-boxes contain sales catalogues with jewellery that lovers can exchange for Christmas, spa packages for couples, and menus for the family roast. We walk into shopping centres filled with people rushing, pushing, bumping, focused on making their Christmas perfect. Around the corner are pictures of starry-eyed children singing Christmas carols. The television airs movies about love, and families. Everything seems geared up to tell those feeling they have not, how much they are missing out on.
If we are using this time to celebrate Christ’s birth: let’s get with it! Christmas is not about the ‘haves’, it’s a celebration for the ‘have-nots’. If we could transport ourselves to Jesus’ birth, what would we find? A poor family. A conservative society. The shame of an unwanted pregnancy. The prospect of being stoned to death. Whispers of illegitimacy that would haunt the child for life. A heavily pregnant girl enduring a long, bumpy journey on a donkey. Ending in that incredibly painful exercise called ‘giving birth’ – not at home, not even in hired lodgings, but in an uncomfortable cattle-shelter, in a strange town. So poor, so lonely, there was no bed to lay the tiny newborn – just a cattle-trough. Then suddenly turning into refugees fleeing a ruthless leader. Culminating, some thirty years later, in a torturous, humiliating death.
All for what?
In my humble opinion, so God could come for the have-nots.
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy the presents, food, and starry-eyed children – but they are so fleeting, and don’t make people immune to pain. We all nod wisely and agree that it’s not about the gifts. At the risk of sounding blasphemous, Christmas is not even about family! Neither is it about getting together with like-minded folks. If God had decided to hang out only with agreeable heavenly beings, where would we all be?
What do we really need to celebrate Christmas?
Tags: Christmas
