You don't fit in here.
You don't know what's in style.
You don't even know what to talk about with these people. You're basically an alien.
No. You're wrong.
They aren't really there. It couldn't last that long, that distance.
You've changed.
They've changed.
But not like you.
They'll never get you.
They'll never understand.
Just stop trying.
They forgot about you again because your'e not one of them anymore.
They don't really want to include you in their life. It's too painful. Too annoying. Too much work.
They've moved on. They have others.
Others that are more fun/easy/accessible/normal/local
They don't want to hear about it anymore. They have their own problems to deal with.
This is the first world. They have their own set of issues.
They don't really care.
Give them a break, they're busy.
You're the one that left them.
It's your fault.
Out of sight, out of mind. In sight, too much work.
They're only pretending. It's just to make you feel a little better.
I know the truth.
They don't want you.
They don't value you.
There's no place for you here.
And I'll go ahead and say there's no place for you there either.
You're alone.
Trapped floating in space with no trajectory, purpose, value.
No one will want to hear that.
No one will support that.
No one will understand that.
No one will show up.
No one will stand up.
No one will.
... there's {
I've spent much time scouring the interwebs for articles that explain the great dichotomy that is life as an overseas missionary. There are some great ones out there (see below) that help explain many things, but none of them truly touched precisely what I've been facing lately: The feeling of not belonging.
When I'm in my host country I don't fit in, and I long for the familiar faces of my passport country. But when in my passport country I also don't fit in, even among the familiar faces - and that's when the lies of the enemy start creeping in. I know they're just that. Lies. From Hell. But that doesn't make them any easier to deal with. So every day I choose to have hope. Hope that God is moving. Faith. Faith that his mercy is new every morning. I choose grace. And I know that he offers it for every minute I need it. And I choose truth. Because the truth is, God has an amazing plan for our Tribe, and we get the honor of watching it unfold as we are obedient to him and doing the work he has called us to do.
What about you? Are you a missionary? An expat? What's one of the things you struggle with most and find hard to explain to those around you?
Are you a friend/relative of a missionary or expat? What's something that's hard for you to express or understand about their lifestyle?
I'd love to hear your input!
Some great articles from our friends over at A Life Overseas:
Saying Goodbye Ugh. Yes.
Suffering for the 'Cause'
Culture Stress
This is Missions
Fear of Disappointment
Shopping at Target - Nailed. IT.
Flying and Missions
Identity of a Missionary
How To Encourage Us - Yep. All These.
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