in the changing of seasons: a final post

 June 26, 2008. 

The day I wrote my first post on this blog. I was sitting in a hotel room in New York, prepping to fly to London. As the flight took off the next day, I thought, "That's it. It's over. I've ruined my whole life and I'm going to die somewhere in Africa, alone and abandoned." (I've always leaned towards the dramatic.) 

And the truth is, I did ruin my whole life. For weeks, I had been taking most of my stuff to the local Goodwill. I made so many trips that at one point, the intake guy commented, "Are you getting a divorce? You're here everyday with tons of stuff." 

"Nope. Just selling my house, giving away everything that won't fit in two suitcases, leaving my dog behind and moving to a different country. You know, totally normal."

I ruined my "house in the suburbs, little red sports car, single woman with a dog" life. 

I ruined my "culturally-specific, privileged majority, America is the Best" life.

I even ruined my "western interpretation, American Bible" life.

But the reality is, God told me to get on that airplane. I was scared, nervous, afraid... and fully convinced that God had told me to do it and He was going to figure it out. I was totally naive about what I needed to survive in another country. I didn't know that I packed the wrong books and the wrong shoes. I didn't realize that I would need a sweatshirt for the beach at night and a manual-charging flashlight for the rolling power outages. I showed up with the wrong things and the wrong ideas about what life in Tanzania would be like. But God was faithful. He helped me make friends and learn the Swahili words for green pepper and pineapple and figure out how to make coffee over a gas burner. He helped me listen and learn, realizing that He does, indeed, speak every language and that pieces of His Spirit can be found in every culture all over the world. 

God did, indeed, ruin my life.  

And I am forever grateful for it. 

14 years later, I am about to get on another airplane. 

This Saturday, Hubby and I are headed to Tirana, Albania for a vision trip. We get to meet with the team living there, explore some historical parts of the country, figure out if we can feed our food-allergy family with the groceries available, and tour the school where our children could attend. If all goes well... I guess even if it doesn't go particularly well... if the team thinks God is in this and if we think God is in this, then we will start making many trips to our local thrift store, getting rid of anything that won't fit in two suitcases per person. 

(But this time, we don't have any pets to leave behind... much to the relief of my parents. wink. )

Our family has all the big feelings right now. Our oldest keeps having stomach aches, "I'm just so nervous" he keeps saying. So we made sure our Google Homes were set up so he can video call us or leave us messages anytime he wants. Our youngest says she is "big, giant sad" because she will miss us and also "a little nervous... and also maybe a little scared of the dark." Middle assured us, three times during our hour long family meeting, that he won't miss us because of all the fun things he will get to do and all the fun people he is looking forward to hanging out with... "Did you hear that Mom? I'm not going to miss you. Did you write it down on the prayer list? Well don't... because I'm not... going to miss you." (If you see him, please ask if he needs an extra hug. He is apparently (not) going to miss us an awful lot.) ;) 

And I have been a wreck. 

It's SO MUCH easier to follow God onto an airplane and let Him ruin your life when it's just your life He's ruining. When you are asking your husband and children to do the same, it's a whole different level of life ruination. 

And I pray that they will, one day, also be forever grateful for it. 

Since I started this blog to chronicle all the ways God ruined MY life when He called me to be a cross-cultural witness in Tanzania, and, as a family, we are embarking on a journey to let God ruin OUR lives, I think it's time for a change. This will be the final post on "in Times of Spring." Thank you for following along on this wild ride of change and unexpected miracles. It started as a way to tell the story of a single girl following a faithful God. And it's ending, full of faithfulness, heart break, miracles and unexpected joys. We pray our new stories will be just as full. 

If you'd like to follow along, we will continue blogging our story here at theschlattfamily.blogspot.com. 

in culture shock: is America and the church in America in culture shock?

Hubby and I are currently preparing to make a geographical shift for our family.  So we are studying some things, taking classes on some new things, talking about things. One of the articles I had to read this morning, included this diagram:

This diagram shows the stages of passing through culture shock when you move to a new country.  At first, you love it! Everything about it: The food, the smells, the music... and you want to stay forever! 

A little later, you hate it all: Why do these people have to smell so weird? Why do they eat these gross things? And good Lord, why do they play their music so loud on holidays???? ... and you just want to go home. 

Eventually, you learn to love both: I still miss pizza on Friday nights, but man do i love these kebabs. 

As I thought more about this diagram, I wondered if I could apply it to Christian life and/or American culture as a way to help explain the division going on right now. If Culture Shock, by definition, is the disorientation of discovering that all the cultural patterns you have learned are now meaningless, then we got a whole lot of people going through a whole lot of culture shock. 

Okay, Boomer

Imagine you were born in the 1940s or 1950s or even the 1960s...  You didn't have cell phones... or computers... or internet... or maybe not even a TV and you had a very specific way of thinking about our country. Now, all of a sudden, people don't write letters anymore. Nobody wants to use cursive. What the hell is common core? and why do we have to be so "politically correct all the time!" CULTURE SHOCK. 

All the cultural patterns that Boomers thought they knew, are no longer relevant. So if an "old person" around you is "stuck in the good old days" and complains that "we didn't have to think so much about insulting people," they are stuck in the "trough of culture shock." (see diagram above) They are uncomfortable, nothing is familiar, and they just want to go home. 

Maskers vs. Anti-Maskers

You know that friend who is like, "Freedom! I'm not wearing a mask." or that friend who is like, "I don't care if the numbers are down, I'm protecting me and mine."? I'm wondering if maybe they're both in culture shock. 

The "Anti-maskers" are remembering the days before the pandemic. They remember how they didn't have to wear masks in schools. They're remembering when they could go where they wanted and have unrestricted access to most things. They want to "get back to normal"... when America was "better and stronger" than the rest of the world and independence and "personal freedoms" were the highest values.  It's super hard to move through this culture shock and into the realization that expectations of your community matter and America is just as vulnerable as every other country in the world. 

And those of us who are "Maskers," well, right now we're terrified because we adjusted to this "new normal" and now people are telling us it's okay to try something new again. We see the waves and we think," no, I'll just stay home where it's safe and wait until something else comes next." We are trying to keep ourselves safe from the coming culture shock of what a "post-epidemic" society will look like. 

Christianity

So here's the things about Christianity... to be a Christian is to be "bicultural." Jesus said this himself in John 17:11-15. (the often quoted "in the world but not of the world" passage.) So to be a Christian is to live in a world where there will always be something within the culture that "just doesn't sit right with you." There will always be things that make you think "Oh, Jesus, please come back soon" or "what everybody needs is the gospel." [Side note: if you can't think of anything within your current cultural context that doesn't evoke this kind of reaction, then maybe you should take a little time to talk to the Holy Spirit about that.] However, I think that being "in the world but not of it" means that we have reached the "adjusted bicultural person" peak from the above chart. If all we do all day is sit around in our culture shock and talk about Heaven, then we're not obeying Jesus. If our answer to everything is "people just need the gospel," then we're not obeying Jesus. [Yes, life in Jesus is the best and most abundant life. But even that life looks different in different cultures. So you need to be an "adjusted bicultural person" so people can see how Jesus is culturally relevant.] 

Grace.  I guess my conclusion here, is grace. We need to give space for grace. 

When that "Boomer" starts going on and on about how great things used to be, let's show grace and figure out how we can give them space to grieve the "cultural home" they miss, listen to their stories and help them figure out how to adjust to this new culture. 

When that "anti-masker" starts talking about freedom or that "masker" starts giving you data, let's show a little grace and give them space to talk about their fears and worries. And let's help each other move to this "new space" where the pandemic is, in fact, a real thing that happened to our country, a healthcare problem became a political fight, we have brilliant scientists and health care professionals, democracy wins, a lot of people (on both sides of the aisle) put too much trust in politicians and not enough in themselves... and we've discovered that we're just as vulnerable as every other country in the world to teeny, tiny microbes.  

And when that Christian brother or sister starts talking about "this is the way the church has always done it" or "God is love" or "Deconstruction"... let's give grace. It's rough trying to figure out how to love Jesus and be culturally relevant in a way that other people see Jesus, too. The Bible doesn't talk about TVs or cell phones or the internet or pandemics. It says "love your neighbor" but there weren't ~8 billion "neighbors" in the world. And, let's be real, unless you're living in an ancient society, reading the Bible in Greek, Hebrew or Aramaic, then it was translated by people who are trying to figure out how to relate culturally specific ancient ideas to modern metaphors. Let's give grace and help each other navigate that CULTURE SHOCK curve as we try to figure out how to be "adjusted bicultural people" who love Jesus so we can help other people fall in love with Jesus. 

(graph taken from Cultural Anthropology by Paul Hiebert... https://home.snu.edu/~hculbert/points.htm)

(image taken from https://ois.usc.edu/culture-shock-shakes-things-up-for-new-students/)

in America: Why I am Grateful for this Country but can no longer say the pledge of allegiance

So here it is, Memorial Day. We're at the beach and Husband has the boys in the sand and the Toddler is taking a nap here in the condo so I'm taking a minute to write down some thoughts about my Passport country and why I can't say the Pledge of Allegiance anymore.

I know, I know. I should just post a picture of the flag and say how grateful I am for the troops and Go America! and all that. But I've been thinking a lot about this lately and I figured now is the time to process out loud. or something.

Here's my picture... And I am grateful for the troops... But I'll get to that later.

So the Pledge of Allegiance. First of all, let me say I'm sorry to my friend, L, who, years and years ago, stopped saying the Pledge of Allegiance. And I was all like, "Ack! Are you serious? Where's your patriotism?" But she was right. God doesn't call us to be patriots or nationalists. He calls us to be Citizens of Heaven (Phil 3:20) and to live peacefully with the people around us so that we will be a blessing to them (Zechariah). Like the story of Naaman and the Servant Girl. (1 Kings 5) Like the story of Joseph in Egypt (Gen 39 and 41). But the Bible is also filled with stories of people who were NOT good citizens... who blatently ignored the laws of the Land: like Daniel (Daniel 6) ; Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego (Daniel 3); Rahab (Joshua 2). In our current view, it's easy to see them as Heros of the Faith who stood up for God and refused to compromise on their beliefs. But, in reality, they were criminals. They broke the law, they defied decrees, they lied to the King. In fact, the wise men who were setting up Daniel knew that the only way they could catch him out was to put conflict between the law of the land and the Law of God (Daniel 6:5). So that's why I can't say the Pledge of Allegiance... I can't "pledge allegiance to the flag and the United States of America." Because I've already pledged allegiance to GOD (Father, Son and Holy Spirit.) And when the Law of God comes into conflict with the Laws of the United States of America, then I will be a criminal and a law breaker.

Within the history of the United States, Christianity, as a religion, has enjoyed certain perks. There has been prayer in schools, "See You at the Pole" events, an opening prayer for a Congressional session...  For goodness sake, even some of our Presidents use a Bible while taking the Oath of Office! (Not all of them, though... https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oath_of_office_of_the_President_of_the_United_States#Use_of_Bibles ) But, we are NOT a Christian nation. Our Constitution doesn't make Christianity the official religion. We are, in fact, a pluralist nation. It's the First Amendment!! (Believe it or not, Freedom of Religion comes before Freedom of Speech, in fact.) But I will not take this privilege for granted. I will not use it to pretend that this is a Christian nation. I want to remain keenly aware that I am a sojourner here... and as such, it is my responsibility to use what privilege I have to bring blessing, be a peace maker (Not a peace keeper, mind you), to use my voice to support those with less privilege, and to support others who are also sojourners in this land.

But I refuse to take this privileged position for granted. So I cannot pledge allegiance. But I am grateful.
Grateful for this nation where, as a woman, I still had the opportunity to pursue education.
Grateful that I can openly celebrate Christmas and Easter without fear of retribution or imprisonment.
Grateful that I can travel wherever I want, whenever I want.
Grateful that I can march, protest, write a letter to a lawmaker, have a voice in politics. (Although, as a moderate, it's a quiet voice in a sea of extreme noise, but that's another post for another time.)
Grateful that this nation still maintains a deep sense of Justice. (I believe every culture shows some aspect of the Kingdom of God... and I believe this is America's.)

*Side note: I know, Justice is a hard word for us right now... when racism is still so prevalent, especially within the Judicial system; when the gap between the rich and the poor is wide and uncrossable; when people are dying from easily medicated diseases because they can't afford the prescription. But if we didn't believe in Justice, then we wouldn't care. We wouldn't have a riot when another black life is lost to a "routine police investigation." We wouldn't fight to overturn court decisions... we wouldn't even appeal! We wouldn't throw up our hands and say, "WTF?" when a city poisons half its population with contaminated drinking water. In all these cases, if we didn't care about Justice, we would say, "Meh. Stuff happens."*

and I'm grateful to the men and woman who are willing to stand in the gap and serve in the military. I've had the privilege to know and have conversations with some Army Chaplains. One I recently had with the Chaplain at our local veteran's center, concerned how he spends most of his time. He said there was always the weekly church service, but most of his time was spent counseling the men and women who were serving. Giving them a place to talk about, vent, and examine the choices that they were making: how serving in the military and obeying the commandment "Thou Shalt not Kill" seemed impossible.  (This American Life also had a similar interview on their show "10 Commandments".) After this conversation, I realized, it has been fairly easy for me to obey that commandment. I have never experienced anything that has put me in the position of needing to defend myself to the death. I have needed to physically defend myself, to verbally defend myself, and to intellectually defend myself. But I haven't experienced anything that required me to kill someone else to keep myself or my family safe. But there are people who have. And I know that there is a pacifist conversation going on right now.  (And before you roll your eyes, even pacifists had a role during WWII: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civilian_Public_Service) And I support that conversation. But the bottom-line is, somebody had to stop Hitler. He rolled right over most of Europe until a tiny, little island in the middle of the Atlantic stood up and said, "No more. No further." And they fought with everything they had. And when the US military joined the fight, it took a spectacular loss of life to stop the tragic extermination that was occurring. Someone had to stand up, hold a weapon, and say stop. Someone had to weigh the brutality of the concentration camps against the life of the soldier in front of him. Someone had to stand in that gap between "Thou Shalt not Kill" and "Rescue those being lead away to death (Proverbs 24:11)."  And I want to say Thank You. Thank you for standing in that gap. To my cousins, my grandfathers, my friends, my former students: Thank you.

in Conversation: things you shouldn't say to a mom of two kids... or any person... ever.

Not the post that I was intending to write this week. However, after an... let's say, interesting conversation in the cafeteria at lunch today, I decided it was time to look back at all the comments that were flung in my direction after announcing that I was pregnant with my second child only 9 months after giving birth to my first.

While still pregnant...

"Wow... Congratulations, I guess." Then, in a whisper, away from Michael... "You're happy about this, right?"

"Don't you think it's rude to get pregnant so fast when your (insert distant relative here) struggles with infertility?"

"How many babies are you planning on having?"

"Did you lose all the baby weight from the first one, yet?"

"You must really like sex a lot."

and my personal favorite... "You're pregnant again? What do you want your own reality TV show?"



The first time we brought B to church...

"I didn't know you were pregnant! I just thought you hadn't lost the baby weight."

"Does D like him? or has he tried to hurt the baby, yet?"

"He looks JUST like his brother."

"He looks NOTHING like his brother."

"Two boys? It's time to start trying for that girl!"

"Are you guys finished or do you want another one?"

"You must really like sex A LOT."

and an oldie but a goodie... "You had another baby already? What do you want your own reality TV show?"

In public with two kiddos...

"You really have your hands full."

"Are they BOTH yours?"

"My daughter/cousin/sister-in-law/best-friend-from-kindergarten had two kids close together like that... She said it was the hardest thing ever."

"Your boys are so cute! Do they look like their Dad?"

"Both of your boys are so cute, I could just steal one of them!"

"You're going to wait to have more kids... right?"

and still... "Two kids, 17 months apart? What do you want your own reality TV show?"

and from the cafeteria today... "I recognized your boys, but last time you didn't have any makeup on, your hair was kind of messy and you were in jogging pants. You looked really tired. That's why I didn't recognize you this time!"


Next time you see me in public and I look like a hot mess but both of my boys are alive and I'm still speaking to my husband... please consider the fact that it has probably taken every ounce of energy I have to just get out of the door without forgetting a snack/bottle/diaper/Thomas the Train engine.
        ...And my husband has probably asked me to "Get out and meet some people" in this new community that he so desperately wants to be a part of but is having a hard time finding the space in his schedule what with all the working/studying/fathering/husbanding.
        ...And it's probably such short notice that the best I could do was to change two diapers, make sure everyone has socks, change the baby's outfit again after he spit up/drooled/pooped all over himself, and hope to God that nobody will notice that I haven't showered in three days.
        ...And if you still feel the need to speak to me after the initial, "Hi, how are you? My name is____," (and please speak to me after the initial "Hi, how are you, my name is ___."); maybe you could just ask if I'm reading anything exciting right now. Chances are, there is a book open on my Kindle that I truly intend on finishing before my boys reach puberty.

...and maybe stand downwind... just in case. :)

in Transition: part 2 (our moving story)

Mike started school in September 2014, when I was a few months pregnant with B. At the time, we decided it would be a terrible idea to try to move. (And it would have been.) But this summer, when Mike and I looked at each other the first week of August and said, "We think we should move to Wilmore," we figured it would take a miracle of God to make it happen. After all, we needed an apartment in student housing, approval from Mike's company to work remotely, and, perhaps our biggest hurdle, we needed to sell our house in Ohio... quickly.

Three weeks later, we had an apartment, approval and our house on the market.

5 weeks later, it was sold.

Our house in Ohio... the day it went on the market. 

And we started packing a moving van.

D with our friend, Harry.

All the Grandparents came to help pack and hold kiddos. 

Packed up and ready to go!

Seriously... we needed lots and LOTS of help!
(Thank you also to the Daltons, the Wellers, and Danny R.)

We also had our car packed tight... with a baby gate in a car carrier strapped to our luggage rack. Mike drove the truck... I drove the heavily loaded car with both boys. We took our last family picture in front of the house, prayed for our travels, kissed grandparents goodbye and set off for our new adventure. 

And then things got crazy.

30 miles outside of Columbus, something in the car went KATHUNK, then rattled against the back window. I called Michael, "Something's wrong with the car top carrier! Help! Meet me at the next exit!!" Then another noise, WABOOSH! Kathunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.... Still on the phone with Michael... "Okay, the whole carrier just came loose... I've got to pull over... I don't know what to do....!" Heart beating, shaking, trying to drive carefully and not freak out the boys... I look in the rearview mirror and, miraculously, see the image of my mom's van! Still on the phone, "It's my mom! My mom is behind me! Oh my gosh... just keep going, Michael. it'll be okay!" I pulled off to the side of the highway, she pulled off behind me, and we moved the whole carrier into the back of her van. We discovered that the ratchet strap had come loose... the strap that held a 200 lb couch without slipping last weekend, popped and unrolled when holding down a baby gate. So yeah.

Thinking that that was our "crazy story" for the trip, I set off again with both boys still calmly sitting in the backseat looking at books/chewing whatever he could get his hands on.

20 miles later, just North of Cincinnati, B started screaming. I pulled over and executed Mommy-power-move-#3:quick diaper change in the backseat. Back on the road, half an hour later, B was still screaming as we crossed the bridge over the Ohio River and hit Kentucky. I pulled over and gave him a bottle in the parking lot of a mall, threw a snack at the toddler, then got back on the road. Our 3 hour trip now passing the 4 hour mark. 5 miles past the exit, B started screaming... again. Unfortunately, this is the part of I75 where there is nothing but hills, trees and trucks for 30 miles. There is nothing I can do. B is screaming, D is singing (loudly so he can be heard over his brother) and I am just trying to get us to Wilmore safely!

We started approaching the Owenton/Corinth exit... and I prayed. "Jesus, whatever darkness is trying to prevent us from reaching Wilmore, I tell it to go now in Jesus name." From the backseat, the toddler says, "Bye Bye," and the screaming baby falls fast asleep. Silence and peace for the first time in 4 hours. and I ugly cried for the remaining hour it took us to reach our new front door.

Later, when Mike and I had the chance to talk about it, I found out that he had faced some spiritual oppression as well... the man who never has a panic attack, had three on the drive down. The man who is not afraid of bridges, barely made it over the Ohio for fear of driving off the road. And when he reached the Kentucky border, it lifted.

We began our adventure here in Wilmore by fighting a battle. A battle that, we have since learned, is not unusual for families moving to be a part of the Asbury community. A battle that we want to be continually aware of and prepared for... a battle that we are training to help others be prepared for... Lord help us.

in your Future?

Just received the February 2013 update from HOPAC. There are a number of positions available for next year... I highly, Highly, HIGHLY recommend you click on the link below, pray about it, and see what God says! :)

The Best Job Ever... by Amy Medina