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 the family way... the post that I didn't write last year.

It's been over a year since I wrote a blog post. I was going along there pretty consistently for awhile but then something happened... something very unexpected, very wonderful and very unplanned. We got pregnant. And then lots of things happened... sickness... and school... and Hebrew... and new doctors... and new friends... and a daughter.

And now there are 5 of us.

It's not a great photo... but it's us:
Sleep deprived, sweaty, upset and in love. 

And it took me awhile to figure out what I wanted to say about all this... and then I didn't know if I was allowed to say it... and then God put me on the spot one day during church.

Our Pastor was teaching on something from the Bible that had great impact to our lives and was filled with important and enlightening truths... or something (church these days =  comforting a baby and shushing a toddler). In the middle of all this exposition and encouragement, he asked us to to take a moment to be silent, then tell God whatever we wanted to tell him. So I did:

"God, I'm mad at you."

Wait, what?
Oh no, so that's in there.
Dang it.

And then I remembered about three c-sections in less than 4 years, a husband who is working and in school full-time, three kids 3 and under, SO MANY DIAPERS, never a moment alone, never losing the baby weight because there are always more babies... and, most importantly, how we were trying NOT to get pregnant.

So I realized that I WAS mad at God.

And then I felt terrible!! Because so many friends, family, strangers on Facebook have been disappointed in their pursuit of trying to start a family. There are so many women who have cried and cursed God as another fruitless month goes by. And here I am, drowning under so many blessings and angry about the timing. It seemed foolish. It seemed ridiculous. It seemed selfish.

But there you are... I was mad at God last year when we found out that we were pregnant. So I didn't write about being "in the family way" like I did for my other kiddos.

So here you go Baby Girl, this one's for you.


Last year, I got pregnant.

And then we found out that we were having a girl!

So we rearranged our house and gave away lots of boy clothes and figured out how to put three kids in one bedroom. Then we had a c-section.

And now we have a daughter!!!

And she is gorgeous and wonderful and smart and a true blessing and light to our lives!


And yes, she is adored by her brothers. :)

 


And God and I? Well, we're working it out. But that's another post for another time. (Hopefully, next week. But kids are crazy and who knows what could happen between now and then.)

in a Selfish phase... but not really

Some days, I feel like a great mommy! Like tonight... the dishes are done, the cloth diapers are soaking, the boys both went to sleep without screaming, I made myself a cup of tea and I actually wore real clothes today! (I mean like shoes and socks and everything!) Mama win!

And then somedays, D refuses to help clean up, and screams "No!" at me all day long, and then he spills his milk on the floor and I scream at my toddler for being clumsy and he cries and then I cry and then B cries because everybody is crying and that stresses out his little 10 month old heart.

That's right... I scream at my 2 year old for spilling his milk... and I make him cry.

Mama Fail.

We do live in Kentucky now...

Usually on those I-make-everybody-cry days, I have no coping skills. I am stressed, I am nervous, I am burnt out. I don't have the ability to stop myself and say, "It's okay. We'll clean it up." All I can think is, "You did that on purpose to defy me! AHHHHHH!" Not a rational thought by any stretch of the imagination. And I have come to realize that, most of the time, those are the days where I haven't thought about myself at all. Yes, you read that sentence right... on the days where I take no time for myself... no 30 minutes of morning Yoga, no lingering at the breakfast table to finish my cup of coffee, no admiring myself in the mirror while I try out a new eyeshadow... those are the days where I am the worst kind of mommy. The days where I've tried to only be a mommy, I'm the worst mommy. 

Monday night, at Women's Communion, our fabulous speaker, LE said, "You can't pour from an empty cup." 

So so true. Often, lovely women and devoted friends and family have filled my cup for me... the 6 weeks following my c-sections, for example. I am literally not able to do anything but sit and nurse a baby. So other people have to gather, take care, clean my house, feed my family and fill my cup. But most of the time, I need to be responsible for making sure my cup is being filled. I'm just now starting to figure out what that means...

Growing up in a Christian denomination that leaned toward legalism, I've always interpreted that phrase as reading your Bible and praying. "You want to be filled up? Do more devotions. Spend more time with Jesus. Getting bored with all that? Here are 17 verses taken totally out of context and vaguely related to perseverance." And then, once you were filled, you better be headed out to the mission field so that you can pour yourself out because "to whom much is given much will be expected." (Another oft quoted Bible verse taken totally out of context and used to "encourage" young Christians struggling with their faith lives.) 

But I've learned a fancy new term... Self-Care. Which, surprisingly, means taking care of yourself. And, being the brilliant scientist that I am, I am learning that if you don't take care of yourself, then you can't take care of other people. WHAT? I know. 

 

So here I am... doing Yoga, drinking decaf coffee (thank you, anxiety), and trying new eyeshadows. And being a better mommy because I'm selfishly (but not actually selfishly) taking time for myself. 

*And yes, somedays people are sick and no sleeping is happening and we have run out of coffee. And on those days I am grateful for Netflix. Because sometimes, Netflix makes me a better Mommy.*

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 Transition

Yeah, it's been awhile since I've been able to sit down and write... or think.. or feel... or do anything besides chase my kiddos. Seriously... now that B is never where I want him to be crawling, he and D like to go in opposite directions as often as possible. But more on him later (insert mommy guilt about not giving him equal time on the blog.)

Anyway...  I've had a baby, sold a house and moved to Kentucky since the last time I stopped by to vomit my thoughts onto paper the screen. That's a lot.

I mean a lot, a lot.

Yeah, I had a panic attack as soon as we turned onto our road coming back from Christmas holidays. (but more on that later as well.)

My very wise sister said to me, "Of course you had a panic attack! You've been through so much transition your body doesn't know how to handle it!" She was right.

So here I am again. Trying to find something that connects me to who I was before.. before I was a wife, before I was a mommy, before I was Katie. Something that was true about me then, and is still true about me now. (Yeah, yeah, I know I'm still a child of God and all that... we'll get to Him later.)

So please bear with me as I reconstruct some things that have happened the past few days, weeks, months, years... I have lots of stories to tell and I've decided that I'm going to find the time to tell them. Even if it's 9:30 on a Thursday night and I'm about to close down Starbucks. :)