Before I moved out of the country, I thought culture shock
was based in homesickness. I also thought it wouldn’t really effect me.
Ha!
Both of those statements are very untrue. Homesickness is
something one can learn to manage. Culture shock is a beast all its own. Maybe
I’ll be able to explain it one day. I am certainly getting lots of experience
dealing with it.
Homesickness, though, is something that I have been thinking
about all day. I have discovered that for most people in the foreign service,
the ability to choose not to think about things is crucial to avoiding the kind
of homesickness that can swallow a person whole.
I have really gotten good at deciding to not think about how
much I miss home. Home for me is my granny’s kitchen. If I give myself the
tiniest bit of mental leeway, I am transported right to my spot at her table
watching life happen in our family. I know the sounds and smells of family, my
family, down to the smallest details. And I miss it so much.
Like I said, I have gotten good at changing the channel in
my mind. But today has been different. Today marks a year ago that I lost my
granddaddy. He was such a large part of my life back ‘home’. It is hard to
imagine that he is not there. His place is at that table. Just for the day I chose
to let my mind drift back there. I wore my granddaddy’s sweater all day and I
have been sad. I have missed him. I have missed home. I have missed my family.
The part of me that wants to be home can feel overwhelming
at times. Don’t get me wrong; I am right where I’m supposed to be. That doesn’t
mean I don’t long for some good ole Southern charm!
Tomorrow I will get up and enjoy living in Poland. I will
choose to ignore the tug on my heart for home. I’m glad I can choose joy in
where God has placed us; but I hope home always keeps that tug. That tugs lets me know that part of my heart is still in Georgia.
