On Friday afternoon I wanted to go home. Back to the United States. Back to the way I know, back to my friends, my family, Rodrigo’s brothers, and most importantly back to the American education system that I understand and appreciate. Different is different and not inherently wrong, but in my case, I think the school system here is outdated and over-the-top stressful. Not only that but I had an hour long, intense discussion with one of the teachers. Instead of trying to help my kid with language learning and overcoming obstacles she asked: “Why did you come here?” and explained “You aren’t going to receive help for your kids. This is the way it is here.”
I walked out of school that afternoon and called Rodrigo. “I’m going home. Not sure what you want to do, but I’m leaving at the end of the month. I can’t take it any more.”
I made my plans, and cried. A friend took my children over to her house to play and let me have the afternoon to pray and think and cry and write Rodrigo texts telling him that I am ready to leave. The kids knew I was upset, but didn’t know I was packing my mental suitcases and high tailing out of this city.
That afternoon I emailed a very good friend. She wrote me the most poignant, selfless email I’ve gotten in ages – and exhorted me, pushed me to trust God and remember he didn’t bring us down here on accident.
I spent time more time praying, and crying about my children’s schooling and how guilty I feel. Overwhelmed at a system that gives nine-year-olds two hour tests to see if they’ve learned the science material for the unit – and if they haven’t – they fail. That’s it. They should have studied harder. I can’t keep up with that kind of grace-less system, I can’t toe the line. And I don’t want to.
My friend’s email helped me because it reminded me that God brought us here and here is hard. Harder than I ever realized. It’s a culture that has survived earthquakes, tsunamis, a seventeen year dictatorship that instilled fear and a “no fail” culture, that made the economy better, but killed a lot of needless victims to rise up that very economic ladder.
I have my kids in one of the best schools in the city, but many children are in classes with forty students and a teacher who doesn’t know how to teach, who doesn’t like teaching, and has no idea how to cultivate a love for learning and creativity – just memorize the work and vomit it back up for the test. Your team skills, your leadership ability, your creativity don’t matter. Just memorize the material and take the test. I’m outraged because I know there’s a more gracious and beautiful way to teach, to inspire a love for learning, but we only know what’s we’ve seen and heard.
My children are okay – they’re getting good grades and love their friends and go to school everyday happy. They are learning another language, fluently. They are learning how to live and do life in two cultural contexts – this gift, this opportunity is not without a price. I have to recognize that. This is the challenge. When does frustration outweigh the benefit?
Last night we drove over to the land to pick up some wood on the back side of the property. We took the pick-up truck over the bridge and through the tall sun-scorched grass and loaded the wood as a family into the back of the truck. Upon arrival at home, the kids got out gloves and helped unload three weeks worth of heating. It struck me as we loaded and unloaded that Emma and Lucas are learning the value of hard work. They are learning that if we don’t pick up firewood and stack it, we will be cold. They are helping our family survive.
The gathering wood as a family came at the tail end of a hard week, of a difficult frustrating problem I have, and one, I don’t think has an easy solution. I’m sure I’ll write many more blogs about how I hate two hour tests for nine-year-old children.
But last night as we unloaded the truck and started the fire and ate waffles together in a warm house because we, as a family, gathered wood from our land – I saw a glimpse of why it might be worth it, of why we’re making the right choice for us. Right choices are hard and there’s always a price. We have to see what the end goal is – and trust that every piece, even the dark and shadow pieces, are a part of the story, of the mosaic. There is no story without conflict. There is no victory without adversity. We don’t become strong and unyielding people who stand up for what’s right if there is no cause, we don’t grow deep roots without drought, and we don’t learn compassion without suffering.
In moments of sheer unadulterated frustration – I’m thankful for friends who remind me why I came down here in the first place and have the courage, the boldness to tell me to stay the course. I’m still here. One day at a time.
I’d love to hear your stories of adversity and how you grew stronger as a result.
Have a great day,
Tina
Hi Tina, I look forward to your posts every week. How can I write to you personally? When I have tried replying before, I don’t think you have received them.
Much to share, Darrell, (from Light ministry days)
Thank you so much. I love hearing from you. I always get your comments on here – but perhaps you’ve written somewhere else.? I sent you an email.
Tina – thank you for giving us this glimpse of the gritty reality of your move. I love reading your posts – because I feel like I’m hearing your heart as you live your life. I miss you a TON –
xo
You are hearing my heart! And pray for me please. To be wise, to let time do what only time can do… And I miss you too.
I will indeed pray Tina…xo
Love you!
Tina,
Yes, the question for me too is, when does the adversity outweigh the benefit?
Many things are happening.
I like how you stated that because it’s more than pros and cons. It’s actually gaining perspective.
I love your thinking heart… 🙂
You are a rare gem, Tina
Each
Yes – I think when we are in times of adversity that is often the question we have to answer, or at least ask ourselves. I’d this worth it? And often, I’m not sure we know. But I go back to the pioneers who forged out lives for themselves under incredibly difficult circumstances. We wouldn’t be here today if they hadn’t persevered. I’m thankful for their sacrifice. Love you and miss you. Tina
Thank you for openly sharing this journey, it is a blessing hearing the work that God is doing in your heart and an encouragement to those who read it.
It felt good to hear your words that the right choice, the right place to be is often the more difficult, challenging place to be. I have been struggling for some time with choices concerning my kids education, the choice that feels the most right and that I have the most peace with is also the one that is the most challenging and difficult. However, I see the beauty that comes from engaging in the struggle, and the fruit that we reap is worth it. We are also facing the challenge of Foster Care…again it’s something that is not easy, that comes with great cost for our whole family but I believe that it also comes with the opportunity for great blessing for our whole family. It’s a struggle that we are willingly choosing. What I want is a nice clean adoption of a perfect little girl that fits into our family culture…what I am choosing is to love broken children from messy situations, it doesn’t make sense. The qoute you posted from Madeleine L’Engle …”living in such a way that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist”…because the choices that we make don’t make sense to people without a divine calling to something greater being a part of the equation. The difficult choices that we choose are opportunities for establishing depth in our character….your kids may not be experiencing what you would like them to academically but man, I am sure they are growing leaps and bounds in their character, it sounds like the land and the people are shaping them more the the schools.
Blessing to you and your family Tina, you will be in my prayers.
I think of you often and the journey you’re on as a mom, as an artist, as someone called to live differently, to push the envelope and to keep pressing into the wind, no matter how hard it blows. I think you and Scott manifest mystery beautifully – and this new journey, the one of Foster Care, is profoundly courageous. And I am grateful you are showing us what it looks like to live in such a way …
I know that God will equip you as you lean into him. But there is a price, isn’t there? It becomes more messy, less serene, less like some weird picture we have in our heads – at least for me it’s been like this.
Thank you for encouraging me and praying for me. We need it. It’s different than we thought, harder, more demanding. To press into the wind takes gumption and a formidable faith.
Much Love, Christina
Tina
Hi Tina,
I have found that it takes 3 years to really decide if a place can be your home. I lived my whole life in Massachusetts, until the age of 21. I moved to all 4 corners of the country since. Recently, we moved to our hopeful, last destination. Although we are so happy to be here, I miss our home a lot. I couldn’t agree more with your piece on your family closeness. Being away from extended family and friends really pushes your family together. Believe or not, at 2 years, I still did not like Seattle. I felt lost. At 3, I wanted o never leave. Princeton was very similar, besides never wanting to leave. At 3 years, I knew it would never feel like home.
Hi Carol,
Your words couldn’t come at a better time. I was just telling someone that it takes three years to settle in and make a home a home. I appreciate your comment. It’s also so good to hear from someone who pressed in and weathered the loneliness.
Thanks, Carol.
Much love,
Tina