The zipline near our apartment--this represents John's total approach to life: put your head back and just throw yourself full-tilt into everything you do.
Vienna does not lack for beauty. This is an amphitheater on the Danube near our apartment.Wherever you are--be all there. Jim Elliot
Sooo...if you keep up with us on facebook, you already know this. I'm kind of blue. Not depressed, not paralyzed by sadness...just blue. Hannah calls it mopey, and she's feeling it, too. Some of it has to do with the weather--it's been really gray this week, and it's harder on the soul than you might think if you're living in the Florida sunshine, soaking up all the vitamin D you could possibly want. So that's some of it, for sure. And some of it is the approaching holidays. Hannah will be in London for Thanksgiving on a school trip, and we've decided to take John out of town. I cannot express to you the ways in which I am dreading Thanksgiving and Christmas without Sarah Beth. Just sitting here typing the words is making me weep. Not tear up. Weep. Part of the price of having a family as close to one another as ours is that separation is very difficult. I miss her desperately, miss looking forward to her breaks and her being home. So definitely, the upcoming holidays are bearing down on my soul in a way that is making the blue a little deeper. But I have seen this particular blue before, know its parts, recognize it for what it really is: culture shock.
Culture shock is one of the most dreaded aspects of life overseas. They try really hard to prepare you for it in training, they warn you about it, but until you've experienced it (and in our case, lived through it), there really isn't anything anyone can do for you except help you to know what it is and give you some tools to deal with it. And it probably doesn't look like you might think it would. Hannah and I decided this morning that it's like slogging your way through pudding...and not getting anywhere. It's loneliness and isolation and feeling like you are not up to the task in front of you. It has nothing to do with whether or not you like where you are, by the way. Vienna could not be a more beautiful place. Austrians have been very kind and welcoming to us. This has nothing to do with Vienna. It has to do with us, with our hearts, with where we are. And so, it's time to confess something aloud.
I didn't want to come to Vienna.
It's a beautiful place. Who doesn't know that Austria is gorgeous? But it's not Russia. And I wanted to go home to Moscow. When it changed to Kiev, I was okay with that, too, because I know Kiev, have been there several times, and speak the language. I love Kiev. I get Kiev. So when it became clear to us that we would not be returning to a Russian-speaking place, I was distressed. I masked it okay. I got excited about Austria. I felt my family's happiness about Austria (my extended family), and I got onboard. Yep. Not going back to Russia is probably a blessing. It'll be better and easier for the kids. These are the things we tell ourselves and others as we try to deal with NOT going where we wanted to go. And when we got here, I really tried. It's gorgeous. It's easy to navigate. We love our neighborhood. We love the school. We love our apartment. All of these things are true. None of them are things I made up but didn't mean. But here is how each of these sentences ended in my head: but it's not home. It's not Russia.
Here's the thing: Russia was hard, certainly. In every way, it was difficult. But I figured it out. I know how to be there. I know how to exist there. I know the language--well, at least sort of. I understand the weather. And here's the flip side to that coin: I am known there. Some of the closest people to us in the world are living in Moscow right now. Friendships we hold close and dear. People who are not work, because they know us and love us in spite of ourselves. And here is the moment in which this became crystal clear to me: during a team retreat, as we went over the results of our personality tests and mine came out as administrative--different from everyone else--I remarked, "Is this a shock to anyone?" And you know what? It WAS a shock to everyone except Marc. And in that moment, I knew something that had not really occurred to me: they don't know me at all. That isn't their fault--we haven't really had the chance to know one another. It doesn't mean they won't ever know me. But at this moment in time, I live in a place where the only people who truly know and understand me are living in the apartment with me. And I'm going to be honest--that is about the loneliest feeling I have ever experienced in my life. And so the blues started, and so they have continued. Because even an introvert like me longs to be known and loved. And I am loved. Don't take away from this that I'm not. But I'm not known.
So what do we do about this? Well, we recognize it for what it is. And because we've already experienced this elsewhere, we know that, as Marc reminded us this morning, it ends. This will be a distant memory at some point, one we laugh about and are grateful to be done with as we roll along in the life God has chosen for us. In the meantime, we try to be all here. I cannot get over culture shock if I have one foot in Vienna and one in Moscow. Not possible to do that. So Marc took me out yesterday, exploring the city and talking over what we can do to feel better. Language is a big part of that. We don't have much in terms of funds to take language, but we will have to find a way to study German. And I have to figure out what ministry I am called to here outside of my husband and kids. Perhaps hardest for me--I have to relax. It'll pass. This will be home some day. I will open my mouth and something German will come out, instead of the Gerssian I currently speak. I have to trust that God didn't bring me here to long for someplace else. But while I'm waiting for this to be home, I must firmly plant my feet in this city, with these people, with this school and enjoy the front row seat for the working of the God of the Universe in my life and the life of my family and the life of this beautiful city. I have to bloom where I'm planted, and for this season, I'm planted in Vienna.
I have a fun afternoon planned, so it's off to do laundry and some other writing before it's time for that. We are getting haircuts--praise the LORD!--and then we're taking the kids downtown to the Christmas market outside of the Vienna Rathaus (city hall?) and then to a gourmet meal at McDonald's. Hannah requested some family time to help her slog through the pudding, and Marc and I were more than happy to say yes to that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are being all there, and that you are looking forward to some family time, too. Blessings to you and yours!
His,
Kellye
Sooo...if you keep up with us on facebook, you already know this. I'm kind of blue. Not depressed, not paralyzed by sadness...just blue. Hannah calls it mopey, and she's feeling it, too. Some of it has to do with the weather--it's been really gray this week, and it's harder on the soul than you might think if you're living in the Florida sunshine, soaking up all the vitamin D you could possibly want. So that's some of it, for sure. And some of it is the approaching holidays. Hannah will be in London for Thanksgiving on a school trip, and we've decided to take John out of town. I cannot express to you the ways in which I am dreading Thanksgiving and Christmas without Sarah Beth. Just sitting here typing the words is making me weep. Not tear up. Weep. Part of the price of having a family as close to one another as ours is that separation is very difficult. I miss her desperately, miss looking forward to her breaks and her being home. So definitely, the upcoming holidays are bearing down on my soul in a way that is making the blue a little deeper. But I have seen this particular blue before, know its parts, recognize it for what it really is: culture shock.
Culture shock is one of the most dreaded aspects of life overseas. They try really hard to prepare you for it in training, they warn you about it, but until you've experienced it (and in our case, lived through it), there really isn't anything anyone can do for you except help you to know what it is and give you some tools to deal with it. And it probably doesn't look like you might think it would. Hannah and I decided this morning that it's like slogging your way through pudding...and not getting anywhere. It's loneliness and isolation and feeling like you are not up to the task in front of you. It has nothing to do with whether or not you like where you are, by the way. Vienna could not be a more beautiful place. Austrians have been very kind and welcoming to us. This has nothing to do with Vienna. It has to do with us, with our hearts, with where we are. And so, it's time to confess something aloud.
I didn't want to come to Vienna.
It's a beautiful place. Who doesn't know that Austria is gorgeous? But it's not Russia. And I wanted to go home to Moscow. When it changed to Kiev, I was okay with that, too, because I know Kiev, have been there several times, and speak the language. I love Kiev. I get Kiev. So when it became clear to us that we would not be returning to a Russian-speaking place, I was distressed. I masked it okay. I got excited about Austria. I felt my family's happiness about Austria (my extended family), and I got onboard. Yep. Not going back to Russia is probably a blessing. It'll be better and easier for the kids. These are the things we tell ourselves and others as we try to deal with NOT going where we wanted to go. And when we got here, I really tried. It's gorgeous. It's easy to navigate. We love our neighborhood. We love the school. We love our apartment. All of these things are true. None of them are things I made up but didn't mean. But here is how each of these sentences ended in my head: but it's not home. It's not Russia.
Here's the thing: Russia was hard, certainly. In every way, it was difficult. But I figured it out. I know how to be there. I know how to exist there. I know the language--well, at least sort of. I understand the weather. And here's the flip side to that coin: I am known there. Some of the closest people to us in the world are living in Moscow right now. Friendships we hold close and dear. People who are not work, because they know us and love us in spite of ourselves. And here is the moment in which this became crystal clear to me: during a team retreat, as we went over the results of our personality tests and mine came out as administrative--different from everyone else--I remarked, "Is this a shock to anyone?" And you know what? It WAS a shock to everyone except Marc. And in that moment, I knew something that had not really occurred to me: they don't know me at all. That isn't their fault--we haven't really had the chance to know one another. It doesn't mean they won't ever know me. But at this moment in time, I live in a place where the only people who truly know and understand me are living in the apartment with me. And I'm going to be honest--that is about the loneliest feeling I have ever experienced in my life. And so the blues started, and so they have continued. Because even an introvert like me longs to be known and loved. And I am loved. Don't take away from this that I'm not. But I'm not known.
So what do we do about this? Well, we recognize it for what it is. And because we've already experienced this elsewhere, we know that, as Marc reminded us this morning, it ends. This will be a distant memory at some point, one we laugh about and are grateful to be done with as we roll along in the life God has chosen for us. In the meantime, we try to be all here. I cannot get over culture shock if I have one foot in Vienna and one in Moscow. Not possible to do that. So Marc took me out yesterday, exploring the city and talking over what we can do to feel better. Language is a big part of that. We don't have much in terms of funds to take language, but we will have to find a way to study German. And I have to figure out what ministry I am called to here outside of my husband and kids. Perhaps hardest for me--I have to relax. It'll pass. This will be home some day. I will open my mouth and something German will come out, instead of the Gerssian I currently speak. I have to trust that God didn't bring me here to long for someplace else. But while I'm waiting for this to be home, I must firmly plant my feet in this city, with these people, with this school and enjoy the front row seat for the working of the God of the Universe in my life and the life of my family and the life of this beautiful city. I have to bloom where I'm planted, and for this season, I'm planted in Vienna.
I have a fun afternoon planned, so it's off to do laundry and some other writing before it's time for that. We are getting haircuts--praise the LORD!--and then we're taking the kids downtown to the Christmas market outside of the Vienna Rathaus (city hall?) and then to a gourmet meal at McDonald's. Hannah requested some family time to help her slog through the pudding, and Marc and I were more than happy to say yes to that. Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are being all there, and that you are looking forward to some family time, too. Blessings to you and yours!
His,
Kellye
2 comments:
Hey Kellye! Just found your blog when it came up in my fb news feed.
Though I'm not in a completely foreign country, i feel like I've experienced the loneliness and desire to be known you talk about a few times in life - both when I moved to Nashville and then when I moved to New Orleans. Though I've lived in New Orleans for about a year and a half, I still don't feel known here and feel like I have to work at relating to people other than my husband. I feel about Nashville like you did about Russia - it was home and I didn't want to come here. I have to remind myself often to "bloom where I've been planted" and to "be where I am", but it's not easy. Thanks for the reminder today.
We're not getting to spend thanksgiving with family either, though i think we will be able to celebrate Christmas with my family. Anyway- just wanted to let you know I'm praying for you and your transition. I look forward to seeing what the Lord has for you there and pray He brings a feeling of peace and home to you soon.
Love you and praying for you my sweet friend:)
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