Dear Keren: The Re-Entry Post

Dear Keren,

You must forgive me for being rambly and having disconnected thoughts in this one. If you were sitting in this room with me, this would have been like one of our heart-to-hearts that go down some rabbit trail, rather than you sitting there listening to me pour my heart out the entire conversation.

Larry asked the other day if I would share the story of the influences of my ministry to the missions committee at their church. It made me stop in my tracks because it was at that moment that I realised I hadn't really thought far enough ahead to figure out how I'm going to process re-entry into the US.

I guess I had been so exhausted prior to this trip that all this meant to me at the time was a vacation. But when Larry asked how Singapore had influenced my ministry life, I realised again how much the seven years in Anderson influenced me--not because Anderson was a better environment than Singapore, but because my world views were being expanded and I was given permission to think outside the box. And Anderson had been the home that most influenced my theology and ministry.

Being back in Anderson this time made the, "Where are you from?" question even harder to answer. It was the Global Gathering after all, and most folks don't have more than five seconds to wait for the answer to that question. And how do you explain, "Well, I was born in Singapore, live and work in Auckland, New Zealand. Those places are both where I'm from, but home for me is Anderson, Indiana--at least, at this point in my life"?

Getting off the plane in Portland, I knew to expect that things would be different now. I've done the re-entry thing enough times in the last nine years to know that. But seeing Judy in what would have been the driver's side of the car in New Zealand made me go, "Wait, I knew things were going to be different, but I didn't think it would be THAT different that Judy would be driving now."

I should have known then that as much as I can acknowledge that things are going to be different, I'm not going to fully understand just how different until I experience it all over again.

Like how there's now this strange addition on I-69 with a special exit ramp for Noblesville and Fishers to accommodate the population growth in those areas. Or why Qdoba and Panda Express have to have such bright store signs on Scatterfield as opposed to the old, rundown operations that used to occupy that space. And then there are the familiar quirks that stick around that make me smile. Like Anderson city water that shouldn't be consumed. Or the wider driving lanes and parking spots, AND the potholes.

The high-energy of the Global Gathering hadn't given me much time to think about re-entry. All I knew was, I was visiting Anderson to hang out with old friends, connect with churches and folks that have been supporting my ministry in New Zealand, and clearing out the rest of my stuff that had lived here the last two years. Two weeks wasn't going to be enough, but I was determined to make the most of it.

Kristin once said to me a few years ago as I was processing your passing that I shouldn't try to over-rationalize everything and give myself permission to feel as well. Jen told me it was ok to give myself permission to grieve having left Anderson. I thought I had been doing that in small doses enough to give myself space to breathe.

But it isn't until all the dear friends leave after the annual Mecca pilgrimage and you're driving around town back to the old haunts that it hits you. The ability to navigate around town makes it feel like it's still home, but it really isn't anymore--at least, not by real world definitions. I don't have a house, car or job here, and I really am only a visitor. I may still have a few boxes of very nerdy books and some momentos, but otherwise, I live out of a suitcase.

So today I made myself stop. In the breaks between the storms today, I took the few minutes to hang out at your tree. Not because I still live in the time of your passing six years ago, or because it's any special occasion. No, it's simply learning to visit with old friends while realising that things change over time.

I found myself telling Mike the other day, that as much as I tell people I was born in Singapore, it really is Anderson that I find myself most comfortable and at home in--at least at this point in my life. In the last few years, going back to Singapore hasn't felt like a home-going anymore. Sure, I go back to visit family and friends, but there are now too many new shopping malls I don't recognise, and lifestyle patterns that I'm finding harder and harder to follow.

And maybe someday Anderson will feel like that. Even this time, things have changed. The weather remains predictably unpredictable, but parts of the city look different, just as friendships have also changed. For some, distance has brought about a stronger bond; others have been hurt by the proximity. All the same, when we find ourselves in the same room, it's like no time had passed in between.

Today I went out and got boxes to start packing up the rest of my material life in Anderson. It's time to let go a little bit more and move on a little bit more. All the same, we hold on to people, and we carry their hearts, and hope that they would do the same.

Arthur says your tree grows; that it's a tree of remembrance.
As Chuck from Elizabethtown says, "Life and death right next door to each other."

A part of me died with you nearly six years ago, but it made room for and gave life to a sense of adventure.
A part of me died with my existential crisis some four years ago, but it made room for and gave life to a sense of awe for the God of grace.
A part of me died with the things that got ugly two years ago, but it made room for and gave life to a desperate desire for reconciliation and Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

All the same, we sift through the ashes of the hurt and the broken, and find the beauty to pack away in the boxes. And we carry those pieces with us--the friendships, the pieces of home, the love and grace of Creator God that shone through the ashes--and we pack those away in the boxes we carry with us to new places and new adventures.

Dear Keren, I wish we could have another one of those semi-serious conversations about living in so many parts of the world--finding home in each of these places and learning not just how to go but how to leave behind.

Dear Keren, hey, I know it'll be a while before we get to talk again. But someday we'll pick up right where we left off hey?

Love,
Me.

On Shopping

I've never been much of a shopper.

It used to be that my mum and I would hit the stores once, maybe at most twice a year, spend a day or an evening there, and that would be our shopping for the year.

Then when I took on an office job right after college, it meant more shopping because my wardrobe needed a massive overhaul from the college kid's sweatshirt and jeans combinations. Part of why I'm not crazy about shopping is because I've never cared much for fashion as much as I have for comfort, and what's comfortable isn't always available or affordable when it's not also trendy. But it wasn't so bad because I had learnt where to find the good deals, and learnt about seasonal clearances. Best part: they had LONGs in their pants and jeans departments in the States.

And then I did this crazy thing called moving halfway across the world in 2 suitcases. Most of my stuff had to be either sold or left behind. Which wasn't a big deal until now that it's getting cooler here in Auckland. Because I wasn't sure how cold it would actually get here and didn't have much luggage space to begin with, most of my cold weather clothes had to be left behind. And nobody warned me about central heating--or the lack of it. And it's been too many years since I've lived without a dryer that I've forgotten that when it gets colder and wetter here, laundry takes a much longer time to dry.

So off we go shopping again. If they had Kohl's, Marshalls or even H&M here, it would have been a matter of simply zipping in, finding what I needed and moving on with my day. I wouldn't have felt like I wasted my day-off spending way too much time trying to find a pair of pants that would fit because they didn't have longs.

I got home that night more homesick for the cornfields than I had been in a while.

Now, I can handle grocery shopping. It's not so bad when I've done my meal planning for the week and have a list of exactly what I need to get. I'm learning that there's a reason why fruit and vegetable shops exist: they do actually have much cheaper fruits, vegetables, milk and eggs. And that Pak n Save is the place to go to get things in bulk, otherwise your friendly neighbourhood Countdown is still your best bet.

But send me back to Singapore, and I have a mild anxiety attack every time I get sent to the store to pick up cucumbers for Mum. I can usually figure out where most other things are, but it's been maybe 3 years in a row now that I've gone to the store not knowing where to find cucumbers and feeling absolutely ridiculous.

A grown woman who's used to living on her own, managing her own groceries in giant supermarkets in other foreign lands unable to find cucumbers in the land where she was born.

Days like these, or these make me wonder if I've ever grown up or if I ever will. Grocery shopping in Singapore make me feel like I'm 18 all over again, never stepped outside of the world of school, band, church or my parents' home. And learning the ins and outs of living in a new place all over again isn't really that big of a deal. But I cannot help wishing that after 8 months, a day would go by where I don't feel like I'm having to learn something new all over again.

Not that I'm complaining, since this is all part of the adventure. But something familiar every once in a while would be nice.

Happy 2012

A quick review of the last day of my 2011, and the year in general:

Woke up wishing I had another appointment with my old chiropractor in the US.
2011 had been a year of more doctor visits than I can remember. Between the chiropractor, the gastric annoyances, the flu-like symptoms that included something like an ear-infection, I think I'm finally hearing my body tell me, you're not doing the best you can to take care of yourself.

That, and realising I'm 25. Still a young pup to most of my friends, but I can't help remembering that when I was younger, I had set goals to have had achieved more by this age... And I'm not quite there yet.

But the crazy thing is, even though those goals that I set way back when I was a wee lass have yet to been achieved, I've had so many more crazy adventures than I could ever dream of.


Stefan asked Kathrin and I at breakfast this morning if we had any reflections on the year. This has been one of those years that feels like a big wave came through and left me no time to catch a breath. The wave was fantastic to ride, but I could have done with a little less adrenaline.

So no, I haven't really had time to reflect. The year has been fantastic in so many ways, but also so disappointing in so many others.


We went in the afternoon to look at a place that could be a possibility for me to rent.
2011 had been a year of so much moving and transition. Between living off the couch in Becca and Jenny's apartment, packing up 7 years of life in Anderson, packing to house- or pet-sit for a friend for a few days, packing to move Amanda out to Colorado and the 10-day adventure in Oregon, having more garage sales than I can remember, selling faithful Cuddy the Hyundai that I had practically lived out of since the day I got her, moving back to my parents' in Singapore for about 5 weeks and trying to relearn what it's like to have a bank account and do other grown-up stuff in Singapore, and then finally moving to Auckland but still waiting for answers with the visa... Suffice to say, I'm ready for a bit more stability in my life now.

Living with Kathrin and Stefan has been a great arrangement, but I'm ready for a space to call my own now after a year of so much moving around.


31 December 2011 ended with a night of games, snacks and (trying to watch) fireworks.
Food and games had always been a part of seminary culture. But 2011 also saw an unfinished game of Ecuador Monopoly that will have to be on hold for a while till the next time I get to hang out with the Robertsons.

And 2011, I got to watch the 4th of July fireworks in St Helen's, National Day fireworks on TV in Singapore, blow some up with friends on Guy Fawkes' day in Te Atatu.


So yes, 2011 has been a crazy year.
I've experienced bigger disappointments and anger.
I've been on a plane more times than any other year that I can remember.
I've said more goodbyes than I've wanted in Colorado, Anderson and Oregon.
I've sunk even deeper roots in Singapore.
I've met heaps of new crazies in Auckland.


Here's to a 2012 with even more crazy emotional roller-coasters ahead, and even more so to a crazy God whose faithfulness leaves me speechless.


Happy 2012, everyone. Love and peace to you and yours.

These Things Used to be Normal

Ok, this living in too many different parts of the world thing is starting to really annoy me.

I walked in to the hospital yesterday to get my medical exam done for the visa application. The lady who was helping me get registered asked for my passport instead of my IC (Singaporean Identification Card). She apologised when I asked if it was ok to use my IC instead because apparently I didn't look like a Singapore citizen?

With all this paperwork that has to be done and all the running around to different places to get official documents, more than once I got a weird look because I had to apologise that I didn't know my cell-phone number.

At one point, the lady at the bank thought I was nuts for not having a cell-phone number that didn't belong to my family. The number I finally gave her after fumbling around for a long time was already in their system--under my sister's name.

When I was applying for my ATM card, the lady thought I was nuts because I didn't know that ATM cards here don't expire, so the one I had applied for when I was 16 is still valid--and shredded in some incinerator somewhere in Indiana.

Then when I couldn't remember how I used to sign my name at the bank 7 years ago, I had to apologise that I haven't used that bank account in 7 years.

Or the fact that I'm suddenly very aware of the amount of diversity we have on our little island. The radiographer that did my x-ray yesterday was Filipino. The receptionists were Thai. The lady that did my blood-work today was Indian.

These things used to be normal. But the Singaporean in me is still 18 years-old, doesn't know how the banks work, and stuck in 2004.

Instead, my "normal" is catching people by surprise.

The lady who did my blood-work was super impressed that I managed to get a job working in a church in New Zealand.

And then having to explain that not all church people are humble are easy to work with.

And cringing when I hear the word "back-sliding" used on people who haven't gone to church for a while.

And explaining post-Christian Europe to non-church friends.

Sigh.

Closing Windows

A friend from Germany once told me this: The way we function is very similar to the way the Microsoft Windows system functions. We can have several different Windows open at one time, but we can only work on one thing at a time. The other Windows can be kept in the background and we can ignore it for the time being while we're working on the one thing in front of us. But the more we keep running the background, the slower the entire system becomes. Eventually when we ignore too many of the other Windows, the system crashes. Also true with the way we function.

When I heard that, I immediately thought of some of Jim Hawkins' first words to me when we first began discussing grief counseling for cross-cultural workers. The words "compounding grief" came to mind. Such is the way we deal with grief. We can keep some of these running in the background for a while while we work on what is current. But eventually, the more grief we push behind, the more "programs" we keep pulling up, the more likely it is that the entire system will crash.

Lately, a lot of Windows have been opening up in my system. A lot that I haven't had time to go through, yet a lot more opening up, requiring more immediate attention. I've always prided myself with doing a fairly decent job processing grief, especially after the major episode some 3.5 years ago with Keren's passing. But lately with the way I've moved from one place to another, one culture to another, one support network to another, I haven't had time. And all at the same time, homework, bills, demands of the day that had to be dealt with immediately filled my time. Sure, I've had my moments of outburst, or, as one of my wiser cross-cultural friend put it, "puking all over the place." But most of it is still kept inside.

Maybe my recent decision to start writing that book about all my travels will help close some of those Windows. Who knows. Maybe "puking all over the place" then carefully choosing words to describe that "puking" in that book will help. Who knows.

Either way, this book will probably happen. It has to happen, I think. Ask me again in a while if I've done anything with this book.

Closing Windows. Time to start working on a few of those now, before I have to deal with the real world. Oh, by that, I do mean the world; just a matter of figuring out which corner to stake my claim for a little while.

Closing Windows. It's time.

Wake Me Up When September Ends

So today marks two weeks since I've been back in Anderson. Weird.

You know, these phases that I'm going to affectionately name "crash landings" always seem to happen at the most unexpected times. What do you mean by "crash landings," you ask.

Well, I can't say for sure that this happens to everyone, but every time I leave a place - or more specifically, a place with people I've grown to love - I have these crash landings where for a day or two everything crashes and all the emotional junk comes out. Sometimes there are a few days, maybe weeks, between each wave of "crash landing" and sometimes it all comes out at once and it's over.

Today was one of those crash landing days. I know, I should have seen it coming, right? What with the recent news and all. Nope, flew right over my head and smacked me in the face.

Nice, real nice.

I'm sorry, I'm really trying to buckle down and make this a serious processing entry, but for whatever reason, I haven't really been able to do that. I guess a part of the crash-landing today made me realise that for the last two weeks, all I had done was just exist - simply getting back till the next day or the next thing. Considering how I messed up the last semester of seminary before Berlin by being completely absent and drifty - AND not realising that was what I was doing - I guess we're off to a slightly better start this time huh?

So what brought the crash-landing this time, you ask?

Well, it started with one bad decision. During a slightly slower time at work today, I decided to take a quick break and check my e-mail.

Bad idea.

I ended up reading a few things that made me miss Germany really bad. And then I looked around me and wondered what the heck I was doing. How does one go from an experience like that and dive right back into an office job - especially after already learning how much I hate office jobs? For a few moments I wondered if (and why) I really hated being in Anderson that much. And then I realised that wasn't it.

What we were doing in Berlin - the whole hanging out and living in community deal - that we can do anywhere else in the world as long as there are like-minded people who are willing to commit to being community for each other. I think I was starting to understand that towards the end of my time in Germany. But for that to really take root and really change my life, THAT is the piece that would truly be a reflection of the impact that my time in Berlin made on me.

Tonight, I took a long drive after I got off from work to clear my head. But this time, the long drive wasn't completely aimless like it usually is when I get like this. No, there were cherry-tomatoes from one of my Anderson neighbours that needed to be picked and eaten. Their names were Ed, Heidi, Thad, Toby and Theo - neighbours who became like family the day Heidi force-fed us yogurt to make sure we had some kind of substance in our stomachs after we got news about Keren's family making the decision to take her off life-support three years ago. They've been family a long time now; it just took me this long to realise that.

And while I don't like being stuck in offices or classrooms all-day, I need to pay my dues. The best part is, the end is near.

Until then, I'll keep holding on. And hopefully I'll eventually land in Anderson soon. For starters, I'm even willing to settle for Starbucks where I am right now writing this, even though I'm craving one of Mr. Minsch's kaese kuchen.

And if not, don't wake me up when September ends.
Wake me up if you think I'm taking too long.


On a different note, even though I'm now back from Berlin, I have no intentions of wiping this blog off into non-existence. At least, not yet. I still have more re-entry stuff I need to deal with and write about. After that, I don't know what this blog is going to morph into yet, but it will probably still have the similar theme of enjoying the journey and holding on in expectancy of all that is to come.

Hey, if you're interested, feel free to stay tuned.
Love you all.