All of us have interesting experiences and strange stories of growing up. Most of the things we remember really happened, although there are some that are only odd because they were seen through young eyes. And strangely enough, memories don’t gain maturity as we grow– they remain the same and our opinion of the situation usually remains unchanged unless we intentionally challenge our perceptions.
Last weekend I had an awesome chance to talk about Simple Extravagance with a group of ladies at our one-day retreat. Garry helped me find some older photos and I spent a chunk of time telling stories. Faith stories from my own memories and experiences. As I shared I was once again awed by God, struck by the blessing it is to have lived a life that has allowed me to see God do incredible things, thankful for the opportunity to reflect on growing up overseas.
The memories brought up other things, also. They reminded me that I will forever be a part American, part-Latin, part ex-pat, part Canadian girl. I joke that I love my coffee because I’m trying to be a white girl: I’m half serious. Some days when I’m tired the effort to “stay relate-able” is almost more than I can make. I love the challenge of being a part of so many things that are basically foreign to me. Some days I almost believe I do fit in, that I’m getting more like the people around me. Sometimes I am thankful for my scattered past and sometimes I wish “Where are you from?” was not a complex question.
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story-sharing has reminded me of the value of asking young people I’ve watched grow up about their past and comparing stories. You see, it is easy to simply see others’ lives through our eyes, to view their privilege and not their pain or vice versa. I can see their lives from my perspective, their history from my vantage point, and interact with them about their past based on my perception of it. Yet it is becoming clear that my perception and theirs are often very different, whether it is my sons or other young people whose histories I share at some level.
I’m sure that part of this is age, but as the chasm between generations seems to widen I wonder what would happen if we simply listened more often. What if we gave extravagant understanding to what we hear instead of trying to redefine it? What if we asked more questions before we gave answers? As I’ve pondered these differences this week, I’ve come to think it is part of the Simple Extravagance of building healthy relationships, and I want to do more of it.
So, as March begins I plan to intentionally be simply extravagant in listening, to seek ways to understand before I try to be understood, to give the next generation a chance to explore their history in a safe place and come to godly conclusions. I believe this has big implications, maybe even bigger for today’s adults who grew up in third cultures.
We celebrated 25 years of marriage last month. This weekend we are blessed by a few days home alone together as both our sons are elsewhere. These opportunities to reflect have reminded me how blessed I am. They have made me fall in love all over again. I’ve been nearly giddy at the opportunity to spend time with Garry. I’ve been amazed at where our sons are, and how little we really had to do with it.
Beyond reflecting on success and failure, I’ve enjoyed pondering the journey we’ve taken thus far. The early years of marriage when we were just two adults, free to choose how to spend our time after work. Trips across the USA and Venezuela, by car and plane and bus. Endless dreaming and planning, hard work and relaxing. The joy at the arrival of our first son and the surprise at how he changed our lives. Finding that God was so much more than we’d imagined and that obedience was sometimes costly. The joy of another son being added to our family and surprise at how life changed yet again. New countries and new experiences. Traveling the world together and staying home with the boys while Garry travelled. New friends and growing friendships. Experiencing God in everyday life and finding a relationship with Him that continues to change and grow and surprise us. Chaos and adjustment. New wisdom and continued growth. Experiences beyond our wildest dreams and sometimes pain greater than we knew existed.
I’ve been pondering this thought in relation to right now and in relation to the past. Right now we are facing some changes as the house we’re renting is on the market. Reaching for our potential begs me to look at every available option, to make lists of what we need and want, and to focus on finding a perfect place to live. Walking in God’s destiny, or focusing on His destiny for me, calls me to quiet trust and patience. It seeks God and spends time asking Him for the perfect house. It scours ads and networks with friends with calm assurance that the house is there and it will come to light clearly. Destiny allows me to continue focusing on the people and tasks that God is calling me to instead of being consumed by the current issues.
Checking in on the radio as the sun peeked over the horizon. News that there was a medical emergency. The dew soaking my bare toes as I went to tell Garry what was happening. Rushing when I headed back inside to get him breakfast and whatever else he needed for the trip. The radio static alerting the boys to a change of plans. Their young faces wide-eyed as they emerged from their bedrooms still half asleep but in need of an explanation. Kevin adjusting his hat as he squared his shoulders and headed out the door to help Garry fuel and load. Kaleb doing his best to lighten the mood as he ran between the hangar and the house carrying bundles in his still-small hands and repeating the message he was supposed to pass on.