Down's Syndrome Tiger

I am way overdue on sharing some of McKenna's most recent artwork.  I think my last post was about 4 years ago or so and it was displaying her work when she was about 9 or 10 years old.  This is her latest piece.  Her teacher liked it so much he displayed it in the halls of the High School.  It was a nice moment of validation and recognition for her.

A couple of days ago she overheard a couple of boys looking at it say "Oh look, a Down's-syndrome tiger!"  

She laughed big time....  The little guy does have some slanty eyes because of Mom's enormous tongue, not because of any birth defects.

So, "beauty is in the eye of the beholder"  Plato says....True, so true.  It is amazing to me that people can look at seemingly the same thing and yet draw such completely different conclusions. This is across the board.  Although there do seem to be some standards that most do agree with respect to things of quality and beauty there is still never ending room for opinion and individual insight.

I remember thinking a lot about why cool things seemed cool.  Why someone was pretty or not so pretty and why we would even differentiate between such things.  Why does a high end car like a Mercedez actually look "high end" compared to another car.  They are both made of metal, rubber, plastic and painted parts.  Yet the distinction is enormous even beyond that of price to most....not everyone. 

Confucius says:  "Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it."

and we can't forget the very important corollary statement from Miss Piggy:

"Beauty is in the eye of he beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye."

I have found myself seeing things that others do not see and I find that beautiful... the discovery of something just underneath....sometimes the inspired moment of application is the most beautiful thing...not the scripture or words, but the insight that comes as a result of viewing something.  Other times it most definitely is the pure face value of the thing.  A fiery colorful sunset, an impossible goal scored, a smile or a pair of ocean green eyes....

When I look at something my daughter drew, like the "Down's syndrome" tiger above... Do I naturally see more beauty than really is there because I am her Dad and the fact that she drew something like this makes me bust out in pride?  Or is it beautiful despite the fact that she has my DNA?  You know... it doesn't matter.  You see what you want to see.... that is cool.... I know what I see.  I love that about art.  The artist usually is the most generous about what there is to see.  Often they don't even know.  They just knew that they had to create, paint or sculpt the thing.  I think they secretly love to know that there are a million different feelings and views.  The ultimate flattery.... and then maybe that is where the ultimate beauty lies.... in the sharing of it.  The gift of it, the talent that created it to be placed on the altar of life for all to see and partake of....

Thank God for the Artists and the part they play.... you have come a long way McKenna from your computer generated MS Paint images of the past.  They both are beautiful to this beholder. I see a Mom who loves her cub drawn perfectly by someone who loves animals so much....

                                              ....even if she does have Down's syndrome...!

Warrior Princess

This is one of my favorite pics of McKenna ever.   I think she was about 8.  I saw her there and it was one of the burst-of-energy flashes where I just had to take her picture, no matter what!  She really didn't want to pose, so I just asked her to turn slightly.  She did, and then gave that incredible look.  The one that melted my heart.  Not mischievious, although it looks that way, more like.......yes, Coy.  Confidently bashful

When she was about 8 weeks old I gave her a special priesthood blessing as we are accustomed to doing in our Church.  It isn't a baptism, rather more of a "name giving" ordinance.  We typically give infants their official name and then say things that come to mind that we feel inspired to say that might be helpful for them to learn about themselves later.  It is a special kind of prayer that only happens once this way.  I have been able to do this for all 4 kids and they have become very special moments for me.   Since we do record and document these prayers, the kids can actually see and read what was said to them when they were babies.  It has been really interesting to see how they process what they read as they get older.  It is fascinating to see if some of the things that were said so many years ago have actually realized yet or not in their lives.

For example,  I remember distinctly one particular part of what I said in McKenna's prayer that left a powerful impression upon me.  I blessed her that she would be able to withstand the powerful temptations of life and be a "warrior against the adversary" if she stayed obedient and close to her Heavenly Father throughout her life.  I am not sure why the word "warrior" was the one that I felt inspired to say, but I did as I felt it was given to me by the Spirit.  I remember  thinking that I would have to really pay attention to this metaphor as she grew up to see how this particular promise would play out in her life.  

It has been a pleasure to see how she has developed over the years into someone that so clearly knows right from wrong.  She makes decisions daily that reinforce this principle.   She chooses to be positive almost always.  She chooses friends carefully and has the ability to see people in their best possible light.  She has enormous empathy that seems beyond her years. I have been so pleased to say that she has done an incredible job not only just enduring trials but passing through them with a lot of grace and beauty.  She isn't a whiner, never has been.  She is quietly determined and has a very deep spirituality that guides her life like a sound and sure rudder. 

This past week a new challenge entered her life.  She was playing soccer, as she always has, and went up for a ball, got bumped and then came down not quite right on her left leg and heard a "pop".  She went down with incredible pain and she knew something was wrong.  We hurried her to the Dr and shortly was diagnosed with a completely torn ACL and bruised MCL.  This is not an uncommon injury for an athlete playing at this competitive level.  What this represents is really more about timing than anything.  She was inviting college coaches to watch her play.  She was two weeks away from the Club Annual State Cup.  She had been visiting colleges as well.  To add insult to injury, she is now in jeapordy of not being able to come back in time for her Senior year of High School soccer which she has played since a freshman.  All of these plans, dreams and expectations deteriorated in just a few seconds and minutes.  Oh yeah... and prom was Friday on top of that.

The night she was hurt I was able to give her another kind of special priesthood blessing.  A healing blessing that invited the windows of Heaven to open and to invite a special healing power to come into McKenna's life and to help prepare her for the surgery, (Tomorrow) and for the very tough physical therapy to come afterwards.  Once again words came that were not my own...  Words that said to her that she would be blessed with the ability to not only heal from this injury but that there were some powerful lessons that the Lord wants her to learn during this time that will prepare her for other things that will come in her life.  That her well of empathy might be deepened and her ability to serve others could be magnified as a result of this injury/process.  I invited her to be sensitive to listening to the Spirit so that she would recognize these lessons and guard them close now, only to then use them in abundance later.

I prepare myself for new chapter of monitoring and paying attention to what transpires the next 4 - 6 months.... to watch and absorb how she applies herself to this process and what she ends up learning along the way.  Then, later.....much later, I see myself looking back on this experience and helping her see how well she applied these lessons by blessing many peoples lives through her love and empathy.  She will finally come to understand that the Lord often achieves His purposes through mysterious ways.  Using adversity is just one way.... but it is a marvelous way when viewed with proper perspective.  Gibran always sheds such great perspective on life:

On Pain

      And a woman spoke, saying, "Tell us of Pain."
      And he said:
      Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
      Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
      And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
      And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
      And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
      Much of your pain is self-chosen.
      It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
      Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
      For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
      And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears. 


You are a Warrior McKenna, you were before you ever came here, and you most certainly are now.  There isn't a mountain you cannot climb, a storm you cannot weather, a battle that will ever best your indomitable spirit and unconquerable faith.   You will cry many tears of physical and emotional pain of what "could have been" but you will never realize just how many people you will inspire along the way.  Watching you wage quiet and subtle war on those forces that would thwart God's ways is a beautiful thing.....

                                                                          This too shall pass.....

Tribute to Senna - 20 years later

I became a fan of Formula 1 racing when I lived in Brazil.  I have absolutely no idea why, but every Sunday morning I remember watching F1 races on TV and became a fan of Nelson Piquet first as he was a World Champion 3 times.  Other Brazilians surfaced and I began to follow them even after I left Brazil.  One in particular that seemed to captivate the entire racing scene and country was Aryton Senna.  He was unlike any other, completely mesmerizing and unusually gifted and is still renowned today 20 years later as the greatest F1 driver ever.  He is still the reference by which others measure to.

Today marks the 20th anniversary of his death at Imola, the raceway of the Italian Grand Prix in 1994. Since then a bronze statue was placed there as a memorial to all his fans.  It captures his enigmatic aspect really well.  Rather than a victorious "Rocky Balboa" image, it show him sitting as if on the pit wall in his racing overalls with his head bowed, as if lost in thought.  This was the introspective Senna.

When he died it was an astronomical loss for Brazilians.  He had captivated his country and fans all over.  Not unlike Elvis, many people will remember that day, where they were, what they were doing, what time of day it was.  His funeral was enormous:  A million people attended and there was 3 days of official state mourning.  He was Brazil's hero.  Probably the closest thing to Pele that Brazil has yet produced.

Even the national soccer team, the single most important export the world knows Brazil for paid respects.  The same year he died, a few months later Brazil won their 4th unprecedented World Cup and dedicated the win to Senna.

I found him extremely fascinating beyond that of just being Brazilian.  I have spent many hours studying him both on and off the track.  He believed in God and often talked about Him as part of his driving.  He was generous to those who had less than he did.  He was competitive beyond belief but was so human, accessible and charismatic.  In one race he stopped when he saw another car crash and spinout onto the track and risked his life to get the driver out and actually saved his life. Senna saves Eric Comas (Video) He simply had achieved a level where he did things that no one else could. He was a game changer.

I will always remember the Yellow Helmet he is so well known for.  He wore it his entire career.  In my own way I join in with many others this day to remember him for what he was able to accomplish and the level of perfection he so desperately sought after his entire life.  He is very inspiring and left a deep and lasting impression with so many. 

If I Could Start Again Today

If I Could Start Again Today
 (click for video)















All the kings and queens in the bible
They could not turn back time
So what chance have I of a miracle
In this life of mine?
I only want one day
To unsay the things I said
Undo the thing I did
Twenty-four little hours
Oh God, please wipe them all away
And I promise I will change
If I could start today again

I know I'm not the milk and honey kind
Today I proved it true
When the red mist falls around my eyes
I know not what I do
Please give me back today
And I won't say the things I said
Or do that thing I did
Every minute, every hour
The replay's just the same
And I can't stand the pain
Oh let me start today again

I only want one day
One lousy day, that's all
Of every day that's been before
Since time began
I know my prayer's in vain
But for a second I'll pretend
That I can start today again

AB:  I know cannot have that particular one day again....I know I am also supposed to move on and look forward.  Sometimes the melancholy just comes regardless, so thick that it envelopes me  and I swim in it for a while.....often too long.  I play the "what if" game as if that will somehow let me rewind the tape and do it right in my mind's eye.....  I would like to think that I would have been smart enough to have not messed up "that" one day, month or year.....but that is the "human" cloth I am woven of....bound to make mistakes,  unwittingly determined to let others down, and inherently designed to cause pain.... the pull to self-loathing is so strong--like a rip current pulling one back to the sea.

Somehow, there is a way to move on and look forward.... to replace yesterday with a new day.  A new day to let me apply what I have learned and literally "start again". To mend, to heal, to forgive,.... I know this is true.  I believe in the miracle of what a new day can bring. 

                                                                      It's just that for now......I want to swim for a bit.

Landon's Joy

10 months into Landon being gone serving as a missionary in Edmonton, Canada I continue to struggle to find the right words to describe the joy I feel, because of the joy that Landon is experiencing.  His experiences thus far shatter all my expectations by a mile.  I was hoping for a positive experience that would help him grow and stretch by learning to work hard, solidifying his knowledge of the the doctrines of his faith, and above all else help find those in need that could benefit from learning about Jesus and His gospel.  He not only has done all of the above, but has embarked on an intense journey of personal discovery that has drawn him very close to His Savior and has caused deep and penetrating reflection that has left me realizing I am the "student" and he the "teacher."  I know I cannot share enough context  to allow any casual reader to understand what this has truly meant to him, his siblings, to me and his mother. 

He is in the proverbial "zone".  That place that is not often found, so difficult to illustrate with words and really can only be experienced while there.  Even though I also served a mission and can easily empathize with 90% of what he goes through on a day to day basis, there is this very special 10% that is reserved for those that have somehow in life acquired the taste and unquenchable thirst for knowledge--to learn by completely devoting 100% of ones soul into that "thing" that is to be studied, pondered and learned.  I would even say there have been a few times where I actually felt that he was in a "spiritual pain" because being in the zone was so good that he could finally see that he needed more and couldn't get more....it hurt because he couldn't ingest fast enough.    This just blows my mind.  If I am honest with myself, I am not even sure if I have ever been in that zone.  I believe I have come close and maybe dipped my toe in the water.  Landon has jumped in feet first, proactively seeking what it is he needs to learn.

This past week he had the blessing of being asked by this good man, named Aaron  (ha!  He must be awesome!!  :  ) to be baptized.  This actually wasn't the main thing Landon shared with us. It was what the baptism meant to him symbolically and spiritually.  I share just a bit of what he said because I love the feeling I get when I read his words and it excites me to want to be in the 'learning mode" with him.  Here are some of his reflections regarding "Forgiveness":

It was so special to have a baptism on Easter weekend, and it was very symbolic to me of new starts and clean beginnings. So cool to know that we can always have those, whenever we are willing to give our hearts to Christ.... but it is especially powerful around Easter.

I have continued to read some of the books you sent me Mom, and I am loving "The Peacegiver" .... the story of David on his way to Carmel and the intervention of Abigail has been a pretty incredibly powerful story for me to relate to. I have always struggled with forgiveness and the process of forgiving..... and have always seen it as a way to get back at others by withholding my forgiveness...... I mean honestly, I don't think I'm doing that in the moment, but when I analyze myself fairly that is what I have found..... it hurts.... but you have to start at the bottom.  I have learned to see it more as forgiving Christ and seeing that forgiveness is really for the one who forgives. It has been important for me to realize that Christ is standing in between me and the person I am forgiving to realize just how that process works.  Just powerful stuff.

As a family, we have begun studying the miracles of Christ each week during Family Home Evening.  We have covered His first two miracles.  We read them in the Bible then we look online and in books for other context to uncover the great lessons that have deeper meaning and application than just the face value of the story/parable.  We have really learned some amazing things and we have been sharing this with Landon.

He says:

I love hearing about the details you are pulling out of the miracles of Christ with the family recently... those are awesome for me to hear. Keep telling me the details of what you learn, cuz I am right in this with you : )  And I'm starving for application! : ).....

There are similarities in all of the miracles...... they all preach to notice Christ is there, to recognize He is the way to change, repent and experience the change that must occur, and then experience the immediate healing of Christ. Then we continue on following in His ways till the day we die. It is simple, powerful, and meaningful. 

And just to close this post today, some more of his incredible journey:

Well Dad, if there is anything I would want you to know is that I am just throwing myself at it right now.  I may not be the best missionary, the most eloquent, the most skilled, the most talented etc,.... but you know how I get when I'm in the zone and want to accomplish something. Like school, or my band thing, etc...... and that's my attitude towards missionary work right now. I'm passionate about it and driven..... there will always be ruts I'll fall into from time to time, but for right now I'm flying, and all I can do is control the here and now right? So that's what's important.

Can you imagine what happens to my heart when this Dad reads these kinds of things?   It is a new kind of joy that I have never experienced. I am SO grateful for how he has awakened me and inspired me to reach a bit higher in my life.  At a time when I so need to better understand Christ myself, he has helped me turn my thoughts and heart towards Him.  I hope that I can even taste a teaspoon full of what he is inhaling right now.    Thank you Elder Brown, 

                                             ............may you never stop soaring

DIY = Overrated

So, I actually think it is documented in several countries that I am the most mechanically challenged dude in the world.  I become paralyzed with fear when I receive texts such as:  "Toilet is leaking", "Dryer is making a funny noise", or my favorite..."The basement is flooded with sewage water".  My heart actually stops, I begin to panic and my mind shuts down faster than a scalded dog.  

I am not sure why, but it is true.....horribly true.  It doesn't really make sense as my Dad was extremely handy and so is Paul my older brother.  I come from solid stock of pioneers, farmers, ranchers and do-it-yourselfers.  Most of my uncles and cousins have built homes....while I on the other hand have successfully pumped gas into my vehicle more than once, refilled the window wiper reservoir with weird blue water and I have put coins in a machine that spins columns of cloth that magically somehow washes the car while I am in it!!  (*a couple of sidenotes on the weird blue water thing:

One - I actually had to learn how to pop the hood, open it and successfully navigate the bar to its proper location to keep the hood up.  Amazing!

Two - It is probably a miracle that I  never actually "sipped' the blue water right from the container like I have done many times with milk.....Tempting though!)

 

I am convinced after many many years of horrific repair attempts and DIY disasters that maybe my sole purpose and life and existence has been to singlehandedly keep the economy afloat by fixing things by check book.  So... I am good at somethings.

 

Early on I knew I was in trouble with my first major project:  A brand new garage door opener.  I remember carefully taking every part into the living room floor and staging all pieces together to get a visual of how it would really look.  I would then gaze in wonder thinking "I wonder how all of those shiny parts are going to get into the garage ceiling, connect to the garage door and then magically open by clicking on a button."  I "studied" all of it for about 30 days before I even dared to take the parts into the garage itself.  I think it took another 30 days to mess it up well enough to have to call a professional....Oh and needless to say I finally learned what the term "losing your religion" really meant.

You see when I see the photo above I actually don't see anything wrong... in fact, my first thought is to congratulate the dude who was so dang thrifty and smart to come up with such a brilliant idea.  My second thought is "How come I didn't think of that!" 

 

Got the picture?  Pathetic I know.

This very elaborate setup is important for the next part of the story.  I certainly hope you are sitting down and you might want to hold onto something solid....... 

 

So I got a text recently that said "Dishwasher isn't working"  I swallowed hard, waited a few moments for the tears to stop and pulled myself together.  This time was going to be different by golly.  If it took me 2 months I was going to do it this time.  I said a prayer and started googling like crazy.   The Youtube video suggested that I turn off the circuit breaker.....Huh??  what is that I wondered.....Never had I turned one of those off before.  I wondered what that funny box was with all those black switches.  Then I unplugged the unit....right, I never do that either....then I removed  all the screws with the wrong tool and decided to put them in a baggie....hah brilliant.  I was on a roll.....I then did look at all the wires going all over the place and pretended to makes sense of them.  I became dazed quickly and went and got a snack to recover and refuel.  I had done about 3 things that I normally never do, so this was like going for the Gold!  I would definitely need to pace myself......

I then did something else I never do... I called a friend to help me!  Woah.  He came over and had fancy tools and electrical measuring devices which immediately dazzled me.  We found the bad part.  "A hah" I said, we did it!  Then he said, "you gotta go find the part and then put it in, make sure the wires aren't crossed and then put the panel back on, plug the unit in and flip the breaker back on......."  He might as well have been speaking pig latin because all I heard was "Blah bla blah, bla blah...."  In my stupor I found myself nodding my head and he went away......I didn't start crying right away, I did have enough in the tank to wait until he left.... then I pounded the walls asking heaven ward "Why me!??"  "Why me?"  What great sin had I done to deserve this.  How on earth was I supposed to even remember what he said much less do it.

 

 I then did something else I had never done before.... I wrote stuff down on paper, and then I looked up the part number of the fuse online and found places that sold it! My pulse began to quicken..... I called numbers and people answered and said they had the part!  My heart sank "Oh no", now I would have to actually go get it and then do something with it.  I brought home the shiny package with the part in it.  I opened it carefully and placed it on the kitchen counter and did what I do best.... I looked at it for a very long time.  Then magically, my inner man kicked my butt and told me to stand up and pick up the part and start putting things back together.  I did, step by scary step I did.  I attached an electronic part with wires that went into stuff and I put all the screws back on the panel, I flipped the breaker  (*That sounds cool btw) and plugged the unit in and then I was scared to death to even try it!!!! Holy crap, no way was I going to jinx the sucker by actually turning it on!!  But,  a text came through from my buddy: "Did it work?" "Crap" A thousand lies came to me and I began sorting through the ones that might work best.....but then deep inside, the new guy started bugging me again... "Come on, turn the thing on!"  There was no turning back now, I was committed like never before.... I had replaced a real part with my own hands.... it was like doing surgery on a patient but now I didn't really want to know the result.... I finally did it.  

 

I closed my eyes and pushed the "Clean" button.... 

Aleluiah, ...... Aleluiah, ..........Aleluiah

The Heaven's opened, bright lights shone down, and choirs of angels were singing praises.  It worked. I actually didn't really believe it at first.  "Nah, couldn't be"  "This is ME".  Somehow, someway, the stars aligned and the time space continuum was altered forever.  It worked.  I didn't know what to do with myself.  I immediately told the kids.... they didn't believe me.  I thought about posting on FB and LinkedIn!  I wanted to text almost everyone I knew and I entertained the thought of calling The Davis County Clipper for a column piece......  I remember practicing my script for when Chelta would ask me how things were going.... Oh man, oh yeah... this was going to be so sweet!  I rehearsed well.  The text came, I decided to play big-hunky-deep-voice-man-of-few-words.  "Done"  I replied.  "Really?"  "Oh yeah, gotter done"  My head was getting very big right now.  I even started to wonder what she might surprise me with when she got home ..... (wink wink nod nod)  "Wow Honey, that is great!"  "Oh yeah, you can say that again" as my voice got deeper and hunkier....."When are you coming home?" I asked....  "Oh, not for a while but good job!".     Nice I thought.  As I gathered my tools (more than I needed....you know just in case) and listened to the diswasher purr like a kitten I felt this warm glow of manliness inside...."So this is what that feels like?"   Cool.....

As I strutted down the hall I felt the buzz of another text.....I thought, "Oh yeah, one more coming my way"   The text said:

"Did I tell you the oven isn't working??"

Third Culture Kid ..... finding "Home"

I just checked....it's true, I have not written a post dedicated to the one thing that really inspired me to begin a blog 5 years ago.  I have made reference to it, but not a single solitary blog post dedicated at all to TCK...  If only you knew what this really means to me.... it will be hard to describe, a lot like my post "Saudade"

But it deserves so much credit that I will take a shot at it...

Let's begin with the Cliff notes version:

I grew up overseas.  Born in nowhere AZ, somehow my father got his first foreign service gig to the very "exciting" metropolis of Tehran, Iran then quickly moved to Baghdad Iraq, family got evacuated, moved on to another "safe and comfy" location: Bogota Colombia, then off to Jakarta Indonesia, back to Brasilia, Brazil, up to Monterrey Mexico with a couple of required stints in Virginia/D.C. sandwiched in between.

My life was a series of adventures and was absolutely an incredible experience.  An unbelievable life.  So deep, so wide, so rich, so rewarding.  I knew nothing else.  I became familiar with change in a way that actually changed me forever.... 

Change became a normal way of life for me.  It didn't just come my way once a year. It became a daily gig, meeting new people, running into new smells, learning new words, absorbing a never ending supply of cultural nuances with every step....Change found a hungry and thirsty vessel and wrapped its tendrils all over me.....I welcomed it....I never resisted....It gave me new eyes.  

Was there downside? Oh yeah!.... leaving friends was the jagged pill that was the hardest to swallow.  Saying goodbye almost always meant forever to a kid. 

As a result, the notion of "home" was confusing to me.  It was unanswerable and always required a longer preface than people wanted to hear, or were willing to understand that asked where mine was.  To me it was never a location, but an emotion....often it was more about "when", than "where".

Eventually, the inevitable finally happens... I return to my passport country....yes, even the good 'ol USA!  I have wondered all my life what that would be like. Not the quick vacation return knowing that I would be leaving again....but the "final" return.  The Soldier coming home.    

My expectations were through the roof.  I had so many idealist notions of what Americans would be.  How they would accept me.  How they would love the experiences I had.  How they would appreciate my unique perspective.  That they would embrace me as one of their own.  America, land of the free and brave.....Oh yeah, my hand was all over my heart.  And then to top it off, finally.....to have Mormon friends!  To also return to Utah, the mecca of Mormonism..Ah!  To be among those that were like minded, lived the same values, believed the same things....to have friends that would shine for me, to be beacons of examples of really living my faith.  To learn the tenets of my faith first hand by going to church in my own language.  Oh, the expectations were monumental.

Oh, the naiveté of a 17 year old dreamer.  What I found upon my return was  the most challenging time of my life.  Never had I felt so much shock, disillusionment and confusion.  I ran smack dab into a huge cultural brick wall that had sharp edges all over it, and it hurt like crazy.  So this is what people always referred to as --"Culture Shock".  I had never experienced because I never knew the U.S.  Moving from culture to culture was my way of life, it was cool, it was exciting, it was full of adventure.  This was not that!

People did not embrace me.  They didn't have an ounce of understanding of my experience.  They did not accept me for who I was.  I didn't fit in in the least.  My hair and clothes were all wrong.  Noone related to me and I couldn't them.  The Youth at church were not stellar examples.... they did not meet my expectations at all.... They were cliquish, they were two-faced and in many cases not great examples of living the beliefs I thought were in my faith.... In other words they were "normal" human beings..... oh my.... that was disappointing!  My attitudes were not welcome, no one was interested in the weird foreign "new" guy and within weeks I found myself naturally gravitating to all the other social "rejects" which happened to be minorities and non-church members.  Americans did not realize the wonderful bounty and blessings they had to be in a country that had so much freedom and choice.   Noone knew how cool it was to go to a store where you could literally choose from 20 different toilet seat lids..... Wow! People would complain about the most mudane things that other countries could only dream of ever having.  The ignorance of other people, culture and beliefs was astounding. I found myself having feelings of embarrassment for them. How could they be so "globally dumb" and "culturally moronic"?  There wasn't even a desire to learn about others.  For the first time being ironically in a position of being intolerant and judgmental about a group of people...in this case Mormon Americans.

This is what is supposed to happen when I lived in all those other places...not here in the U.S.A!!!  I was numb for a long time, then it turned into pain and a considerable amount of anger.  I struggled mightily with not knowing exactly what was happening to me.  Managing this dynamic was completely foreign to me.  When months passed and anger dissipated into a dull ache in my heart I ended up doing what I did in every new place... I figured out a way to be a chameleon.  A change artist.  One more time, I donned the eyewear that always helped me in the past.....and I adapted to the environment as best I could.....I put away the hurt feelings and anger.  I tried to accept them for who they were and started to try and see things from their perspective. The only exception this time was that I would never leave the US again, so the prospects of enduring for the short-term weren't the same anymore.  This was permanent.  So, I pretended, I acted, thinking that over time things would work out. Meanwhile, there was a constant uneasy feeling lurking in the shadows letting me know that I wasn't really ok.  I was putting on a good show.  I put a lot of frustration, loneliness and hurt on the shelf because I didn't know how to deal with it all.....

Fast forward 30 years....  Mission, College, marriage, family and now career. All of these "repatriation" issues were far behind me.....water under the bridge you could say..... so I thought.  Then one day about 5 years ago, I accidentally came across this acronym TCK.  It was a reference to "Third Culture Kid". I was intrigued.  I went searching and found this website that explained what a  TCK (Click to see) was:

"A Third Culture Kid (TCK) is a person who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside the parents' culture.  The TCK frequently builds relationships to all of the cultures, while not having full ownership in any.  Although elements from each culture may be assimilated into the TCK's life experience, the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar background."

This totally got my immediate attention!  Who wrote this and how do they know me so well?? I read on......"You know you are a TCK when:"

1. You don’t know what “home" is.... You call it “passport country.”

2. You often find yourself singing along to songs in languages you don’t speak or understand.

3. You can curse convincingly in at least five different languages.

4. The end of the school year was always bittersweet because so many people moved away.

5. To everyone’s confusion, your accent changes depending on who you’re talking to.

6. And you often slip foreign slang into your English by mistake, which makes you unintelligible to most people.

7. Your passport looks like it’s been through hell and back.

8. You have a love-hate relationship with the question “Where are you from?”

9. You’ve spent an absurd and probably unhealthy amount of time on airplanes.

10. Your list of significant others’ nationalities reads like a soccer World Cup bracket.

13. And your circle of best friends is as politically, racially, and religiously diverse as the United Nations

15. So when you do see your best friends, you lose it a little.

16. You’ve had the most rigorous sensitivity training of all: real life.

18. You know that McDonald’s tastes drastically different from country to country.

24. You’re the token exotic friend in your non-TCK crew.

27. And, no matter how many you say, good-byes never get easier.

28. But the constant flow of new friends more than made up for it.

29. Now you feel incredibly lucky to have loved ones and memories scattered all over the globe.

30. You know better than anyone else that “home” isn’t a place, it’s the people in it

31. And you can’t wait to see where your life adventure takes you next.




My mind exploded.... My heart was pumping a thousand beats per second, I was sweating and tears just sprang from my eyes!!!  This list literally blew my mind.  I felt so immediately understood I could barely speak. For the first time in 30 years the doors of that shelf of pain I had locked away was blown apart and all these bottled up emotions poured out of me for several hours.  




Then I found the "community" of other TCK's sharing their experiences and  So many people had the same experiences I had.  The empathy was deep..... I was so overcome.  I remembered who I was..... it was very much like finding "home".   I wasn't crazy after all.  Someone out there knew exactly what I had gone through.   That was amazing.




More factoids:


• 90% feel "out of sync" with their peers.


• 90% report feeling as if they understand other cultures/peoples better than the average American.


• 80% believe they can get along with anybody, and they often do due to their capability to adapt to situations, and people of different culture, ethnic and religious backgrounds.


• Divorce rates among TCKs are lower than the general population, but they marry older (25+). (Me almost 26)


• Usually they find themselves being referred to as 'foreigners' by their own relatives residing back in the country of their origin.


• They also sometimes know more history, geography, literary and cultural values than the locals of the both countries.

.....after a childhood spent in other cultures, adjusting to their passport country often takes years.

It was the single most therapeutic, carthatic, emotional experience in the past several years of my life.  I couldn't believe that there was a vocabulary associated with this phenomenon.  A book was written.  People had come together  and created a built in coping and sharing mechanism. I was immediately embraced by a community that accepted me for who I was.  What a beautiful tender mercy in my life.  I realized then, that I needed to share more of my experiences, my perspective, my musings somehow. Thus, the blog.

So, I have a deep sense of gratitude that is difficult to put into words for the TCK community.  They have been instrumental in helping me find "home" cause everyone deserves that...


Postlude:  I love being American.  I love being Mormon.  I know now that I was the one in error.  People are people.  The expectations I had built up in my own mind no one on earth could have ever sufficiently met.  My mental model was doomed from the beginning.  Do I wish Americans were a bit more culturally sensitive and had greater understanding of their freedoms?  Sure.  Do I wish Mormons lived their faith perfectly?  Sure. Both aren't perfect.  In my mind at that time in my youth, I needed both to be perfect so they could "save" me--at least validate that I was ok, good enough.  I realize I have to find that out on my own, not through them.  Only God can help me with that one.  So I love both and have reset my expectations to the dial of "freely accept" all for who they are.

..........The Home piece is still elusive....I am getting closer.  I feel it here and there and is usually associated with particular people.  They know who they are.  My sense is that at the end of the day, the only true home is the one I came from.  That is the one that matters.  I carry great hope that it will be the final place where I am totally welcome, loved, feel totally comfortable and know exactly who I am.