15 Things I Wish I Could Have Told Myself Before Moving Back to the USA

15 Things I Wish I Could Have Told Myself Before Moving Back to the USA

Today I'm posting some amazing advice from Suzanne, one of your fellow blog readers. She and her husband have worked overseas and successfully transitioned back to life in America - something I hope we can do, too! When she sent me this list of tips on surviving the transition back home, I knew it was too good to keep to myself. There will be another post coming soon with the rest of her advice. For now, read on, and connect with ! - whitney

My husband and I spent almost a decade in the Balkans.

When we returned home, we were surprised to find that we had more culture shock upon our return than during our time overseas.

For one thing, in our mind, things were as we left them 10 years before. We found ourselves at a loss at how to order a simple cup of coffee at Starbucks ("just a small cup of coffee, please!"). We were overwhelmed at the choices of cereal, and everything else for that matter. We held hands and tried to stick to the list while in the local Mega Stuff-Mart.

Yikes!

One of our favorite moments is when my husband deposited me at a bench with our mega-mound of duffle bags while he secured our rental car. When he returned he found me mesmerized by a gleaming shiny clean city bus.

I was in awe!

He said, “Oh honey, you’ve been gone too long.”

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, "moving back to america"

Culture Starts in the Crib: Thoughts on Parenting Overseas

Our landlady with Declan in the outfit she bought him!

Having a baby overseas has been a wild ride. From moving to a different country to wait for his arrival to battling Bangkok traffic to get to the hospital, it's been an adventure with a huge learning curve.

But having a baby abroad has opened my eyes to the way culture shapes parenting. 

Do I need to say it? Cambodians parent their children differently than Americans. And I really noticed it when my landlord laughed when he saw our son sleeping in his own room.

Most American parenting books that don't promote co-sleeping advise parents to teach their babies to put themselves to sleep in their own bed at a very young age. The most extreme example is the "cry-it-out" camp: put him in his crib, and let him cry until he falls asleep. Even if you don't let her cry it out completely, you still function under the general idea that one day, the child will have her own bedroom, and she needs to learn to sleep alone.

For many Cambodian families, there is no reason for a baby to ever learn that.

Although I've seen how families live here, it didn't connect the dots for me until one day when my landlord was in our house fixing an appliance. He glanced into our bedroom, and, sounding surprised, asked, "Where's the baby???"

I pointed towards the second bedroom and told him, "He sleeps in there."

Uncle (which is what we call him) started laughing and told the other man working with him, "The baby has his own room!"

Our landlord lives below us with his adult children and grandchildren. And every night, they all gather into the main room of the house and sleep. There are a few bedrooms in the back, but most nights, they share one room. It's much cooler to sleep there, because there are more windows and fans (they don't use air conditioning).

I talked with Auntie (Uncle's wife) about this more today. She told me babies here sleep with their mothers til they are big, at least two years. She looked a bit scandalized when I told her Declan had slept in his own room since six weeks old, and even more shocked I only fed him once in the night.

Because families typically all sleep in one room in traditional houses, there's no need for children to learn to sleep by themselves. They may never sleep in their own room alone their entire lives.

American children, however, often have a room to themselves. Their parents teach them to soothe themselves to sleep from a young age.

Declan hanging out at church with friends. His cuteness kills me.

This simple story illustrates how culture starts in the crib. Cambodians value communal living and strong family ties. Americans tend to value independence and privacy. Although different families may have different values, this is one way in which Cambodian and American culture differ strongly.

And these values are instilled from infancy. Americans put their babies to sleep in their own rooms because they want their children to be independent. Cambodians sleep with their babies (and toddlers) because they feel that's how they can best nurture and care for them. And I'm pretty sure they would be horrified to hear American parents let their babies scream to teach them how to sleep - just like many Americans (myself included) shudder at the idea of letting their children sleep with them into toddlerhood!

I've learned that just because my culture parents in a certain way doesn't make it the only way. Yes, many American child psychologists and researchers promote certain methods of parenting as "the best." But both ways of teaching babies to sleep, and in turn the cultural values they teach, have worth.

For me, it's a balance of assimilating Cambodian parenting techniques I find useful, while retaining some American customs. It's taking the best of both worlds, recognizing that neither are perfect, yet can be combined to raise a healthy, happy child. 

If you're interested in learning more about different parenting techniques all over the world, I can't recommend Mei-Ling Hopgood's book enough. is an entertaining read that takes you to places like China, Argentina, Japan, and France to see how parents potty train, feed, and transport their children.

There really is more than one way to raise a child!


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Guest Post: On Missing Out, Isolation, And Daily Grace

Hey everyone! I'm so excited to have Danielle on Journey Mercies today. We met through the Influence Network and were amazed to discover we had friends in common. Danielle is actually my neighbor here in Bangkok, and I have really enjoyed getting to know her in real life, not just online. Enjoy! - whitney


Since moving overseas I am acutely aware of the many things I can’t do because I am here and not there. 

Tragedies happen to people I love, and I can’t go and give them a hug.
Exciting things are going on for people I care about, and I can’t celebrate with them.
Birthdays happen and friends from far away get together, and I am not there.
PhD. Programs worth pursuing aren’t online.
Blog conferences go on without me.
State swim meets, that my daughter should have been a part of, take place without her.
Sunday services and small groups go one without our family.
The Olympics are on, but we don’t get them here.

This list is only a fraction of the many things I want to do, but feel like I can’t because we are so far away.  Living overseas can feel like you are living in an alternate universe at times. But God is faithful here in our far away existence. He has given our family new opportunities to meet people from all over the world. We are getting to see first hand the amazing works of God in a country that is antagonistic towards the gospel. There was much that was lost, but God has redeemed even our deepest feelings of loss with the fullness of his grace each day. It doesn’t always feel like that, but we know and cling to the fact that this is true. Living overseas isn’t always easy, but his mercies are new each morning, even over here!  

So each morning, we put our heads down and get to work. We pursue the God of the universe who deeply loves us, and who is far greater than not feeling isolated could ever be. He is our chosen portion, and reminds of the fact that the boundary lines have fallen for us in pleasant places. Sometimes these boundary lines feel constricting, but in the center of his will we are freer than we could ever imagine being. 

We are missing a lot, but we are experiencing exactly what he wants us to experience, his grace, his mercy and his deep love and commitment. Our portion is full even when we don’t realize it.

Danielle writes at This Life I Live. She is a believer, a wife, a mother, a Carrie Underwood lover, coke drinker, Starbucks addict and special education teacher. She and her husband recently moved to Bangkok, Thailand where she teaches and he serves as a missionary with SCPInternational.  You can find Danielle on Twitter, Instagram and on her blog.


Dealing With Cultural Differences Overseas



Last month, God used a funeral, Twitter, and random strangers to reveal some heart junk and cultural biases I'm still hanging on to after nearly three years in Cambodia.

Funerals are one of my least favorite parts of living in Cambodia. First off, someone has died {obviously}. But how Cambodians traditionally mourn is not something I have been able to adjust to.

One afternoon in January, loud temple music and chanting started broadcasting over the neighborhood, letting everyone know that someone had died about half a kilometer down the road. It went on til about 11pm. The next morning, the music and chanting began again at 4:30 am, accompanied by loads of feedback.

I tried to cover my head to drown out the noise, without avail. And I felt angry. So I tweeted, "4:30am & monks are yelling over a megaphone next door for a funeral. Not a great start to my day. Jesus help me! #Cambodia"

Thing is, when you use hash tags, it goes out to everyone in the whole world looking at #Cambodia. I quickly got a reply from someone I've never met: "aww, somebody died and is being honored in a way that is traditional in their country, where you are. so much inconvenience."

me: "funny thing is, even my Khmer friends tell me how much they dislike it [meaning, the 4:30am start time]. but we just suck it up and deal with it - part of the package!"

him: "nobody likes it. a human life ended, leaving wounds and emptiness. complaining about monks & invoking Jesus is not sucking it up"

me: "you are right. if it was my friend i'd feel different. thx for the reality check."

someone new jumps in: "welcome to cambodia. don't expect another country to change just because you're there. good morning. :)"

So what did I learn from this little exchange?

First - I'm still ethnocentric and self-centered when it comes to cultural differences {which is something I wish I knew before I moved overseas}. It amazes me that, even though I feel like I've lived in Cambodia for a "long" time, I still struggle with accepting that Cambodia is really different from America. I get angry when I'm woken up at 4:30am because it is inconvenient for me. I think, "Don't they know people are trying to sleep here?! Why can't they just wait a few hours?"

I don't try to understand why it starts so early, or why it's so important for them to have monks chanting over the dead person's spirit. I don't sit up and pray for the family that has suffered a horrible loss. All I can think about is how it affects me. And that right there is reason enough for repentance.

How do you think my Cambodian friends would feel if I'd said those words to them? Maybe they would have agreed. Maybe they'd have felt angry that I wasn't trying to understand their world more. And maybe I would have just fulfilled another stereotype of the clueless American.

When Jesus dealt with the suffering of others, he walked with them and showed them a better way, instead of being concerned of how it affected his agenda. He sought to serve, not to judge. I don't have to agree with every Cambodian tradition. But unfortunately, many times, I'm more upset about how the tradition affects me personally than what its spiritual significance is.

Second - God can use even random strangers {one of whom is a Buddhist scholar} to reveal my heart junk. When people criticize me {especially strangers or nonbelievers}, I get defensive. I think it's a natural human response, but it comes from my pride. But when I saw those texts, I remembered who I was supposed to be representing: Jesus. And I realized they were right. I was expecting Cambodia to not be...Cambodian. I was more concerned with my own comfort than my neighbors' loss. And God used complete strangers on Twitter to point out my selfishness. I read it, repented, and agreed they were right.

So how do we, as followers of Jesus, deal with cultural differences while living overseas?

First, remember that people are watching our lives. How we respond is a reflection of who Jesus is - but it's up to us whether that reflection is accurate or not. Our words and actions are so easily misinterpreted by others, especially when they come from a different culture. I learned to be much more cautious and prayerful of my words and what I put online. My Khmer friends can read it. And my American friends may read it and get a totally inaccurate picture of Cambodians.

Make an effort to understand the culture. Obviously, there are reasons why funerals happen the way they do, as well as other traditions. Honestly, it is tiring being in a place that I don't understand, and sometimes, I stop trying to learn more about Cambodia. But the minute I stop learning and growing, I'll also stop being an effective worker in my host country. And I'll lose my ability to connect with nationals and understand them.

Stop expecting Cambodia to be like America. It's not. I expect Cambodians to have the same cultural values as me, but they don't. And it doesn't mean it's better or worse; it's just different. My standard of right and wrong can't be my own traditions, but it has to be Scripture. When I hold up Scripture to both cultures, I see a lot of good and a lot of bad. I don't have to enjoy being woken up at 4:30am by chanting, but I do need to stop complaining about it. I need to accept that it has a significant place in the culture of my host country.

And - I pray for heart change. Only God can turn my self-centeredness around and put my view on those around me - their needs, their emotions, their suffering. I can have all the cultural understanding and knowledge in the world, but if I don't love the people around me, it's completely worthless. And that's what I'm praying for most all in learning to navigate cultural differences overseas.

Celebrating Christmas as an Expat

Christmas in Poipet, Cambodia casinos and Christmas trees
I may not decorate for Christmas, but the Poipet casinos sure do...

Most of us have strong memories of Christmas, whether good or bad. When I think about Christmas growing up with my family, I immediately think of my father reading the Nativity story from Luke to his wife and five children, with the Mannheim Steamrollers Christmas CD playing in the background and pumpkin rolls sitting on the counter, waiting to be devoured. My father always insisted on one person opening a present at a time, so the whole family could enjoy the process, but that usually disintegrated into chaos by the third person.

We spread the mess of toys, books, and wrapping paper across the living room, spent all day in our pajamas, and watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas - the Jim Carey version. For some reason, that is my mother's absolutely favorite Christmas movie. My mother always made food ahead of time - cinnamon rolls, plates of cheese and cold meats with slices of homemade bread - because she didn't want to do any work on Christmas day.

The past few years, my memories of Christmas have shifted a lot. I definitely experienced a change after getting married four years ago. You are thrust into traditions that are equally treasured but unfamiliar to you. And the past several Christmases have been in different countries and cultures - in the United States (but followed immediately by a trip to Israel and Jordan, during which the locals were still celebrating); then in Cambodia right before our trip to Hungary, Vienna, and Istanbul (which meant we also experienced a bit of European Christmas); snowy Japan and quirky Macau. And this year, it will be in Thailand. Last year's Christmas in Japan was full of hot cider, fireplaces, and powdery snow. This year, it will be white sand and sun and a very pregnant woman lolling about on a beach chair (sorry if I'm making any of you jealous...just keepin' it real).

As someone living outside her home country (i.e. expat), it's difficult to find a balance in celebrating Christmas. During our first Christmas in Poipet, we decorated a rather pathetic-looking tropical Christmas tree (I mean, really sad - as in, Martha Stewart would probably cry if she saw it and not out of joy) and spent the afternoon with another missionary family in town. Andrew and I bought each other presents; he even managed to get a bicycle from Thailand for me. But the past few years, we haven't really bought each others presents or decorated or practiced any familiar Christmas traditions - partially because we traveled for Christmas and figured the trips were presents enough.

Honestly, sometimes it's easier to just get away for Christmas instead of staying home and feeling homesick for familiar experiences. I've been nostalgic for a Kansas City Christmas this week. Maybe it's the plethora of Instagram photos, showing snowy porches and sparkly trees and a dozen pumpkin rolls laid out on my mom's kitchen counter. Or maybe it's the realization that we're starting our own family, but don't have anything resembling my own Christmas memories to share with him. I miss an organized, solemn, peaceful Christmas service - in English - with hymns sung to the background of brass horns and piano; hot drinks, cold fingers, and frost on the window; the same Christmas songs played over and over wherever you go, set to different tunes. I miss my mother's food, my father's inevitable late-night-Christmas-Eve trip to Wal-Mart for the gift shopping he delayed, my siblings' excitement over wrapped boxes and packages.

I feel like it's impossible to recreate the "holiday spirit" that I miss here, so I don't even want to try. We don't have one Christmas decoration up in our house. Andrew and I bought no presents for anyone this year, pleading busyness and the fact that we took presents home for all our families in September and won't be in Poipet to exchange presents with any other expats.

In America, people complain about fighting materialism and the commercialization of a sacred day. Here, it's a struggle to remember Advent at all. Our neighbors seem completely unaware of the upcoming holiday, and most have no idea why Christmas is celebrated. It gives me a small view into what it must have been like for Jesus to enter a world completely unaware of who he was.

Christians here do celebrate Christmas, and churches have special services and meals together during the season. But it's really, really different from how we do it back home. I feel the temptation to lament how believers here don't "do Christmas right" or have any familiar ways of celebrating the day. But this attitude limits my view of Christmas to my own narrow cultural perspective. Even Advent itself, which I treasure and am practicing this year, and gift-giving are singularly Western inventions. Christmas can't be limited to one set of traditions. Its meaning extends so far past that.

I live in a Buddhist culture that has no cultural history of celebrating Christmas. I have to be intentional about recognizing the entrance of my Savior into the world. But isn't this something all believers must wrestle with? To look beyond the external veneer of the material world - whether it be poverty or material excess - and see Jesus?

So my desire this Christmas is not to recreate my family traditions or the nostalgic emotions that my culture's practices evoke in me. My desire is to see Jesus and to open my heart to his coming - his daily presence that he offers me, made possible by the fact that he entered my world. And now, he can enter my heart. That's what Christmas means to this expat.

"christmas", , "homesickness",

Whitney @ Journey Mercies