Grief, Loss, and Transition

We’ve relocated our family during a global pandemic and I’ll tell you what. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Not because it’s fun or easy or adventurous, but because I know for a fact God placed us right here.. right now. That’s what God does, and that’s when He provides. Not luxurious items, or our Christmas wish lists, but soul food. He provides soul food.
Moving cross culturally is hard. Moving with babies is hard. Moving during a global pandemic… is another level of hard.

And I feel like I am usually careful with how I respond to “how is your transition going?” and maybe I should just be honest. But If I admit the hard, the response is usually “look for the positive. Count the gifts. Don’t focus on the negative.” And if I admit the love for this culture and these people and this place, the response is usually, “Oh, the honeymoon phase will end, just you wait.”

The truth? We know the honeymoon phase will end. We know it is beautiful and hard at the same time. We are experiencing all of the emotions all of the times. Honesty: It is hard but it is the best thing we have ever chosen for our family.

I read an article this week from a dear friend, which read, “every time there is transition, there is loss.” And it’s important to have your welcoming team of hosts in your new country ask the question, ‘What did you lose?’ “because where there’s loss, there’s grief. And when there’s no language for it, it comes out at your boss or in your marriage.”

But that’s the thing about moving during a global pandemic. There’s no team of hosts taking you in. There are no hugs, no long drawn out conversations late at night. There are no hand shakes, team meetings, community building exercises, or prayers in groups where everyone holds the next sweaty hand. There are no group sessions of cultural training, beach trips, mountain climbing, or fireside singing. There is no location where you enter in and feel instant community.

It’s lonely. There are angels, for sure. The Tammy’s and the Rachel’s and the Anna’s + Angi’s + Lauralee’s. They come quietly, individually, at a distance. And as a Third Culture Kid myself, I expected cultural training, language classes, team meetings. I know the ropes, but this time.. there are no ropes to know. No ropes to cling to when everyone wears a mask and gloves and abides by the 5pm curfew. We retreat to our homes, Zoom-fatigued and wondering why our brains are still spinning. 

It’s a real thing, this loss of stable footing and we’re all experiencing it, WORLD WIDE. Normal no longer exists, and we try to build routine on abnormal human behaviour.
My Hope here, is to begin to pave the way. To pave the way for every other family with babies moving cross culturally, during a pandemic where everyone is ready and no one is ready for your arrival. To somehow provide support for others in new ways. And perhaps that should be our vision globally. To begin to pave the way for an abnormal, new normal. What does it look like to live in a global pandemic? Because guess what. The honeymoon phase of Covid is over, and we can no longer expect to just “ride this out.”

How do we maneuver through this season? How do we give grace to those who take extra precautions, and those who don’t believe this is a real thing? How do we coexist, in the body of Christ, when we believe different things about a global pandemic?

We walk slowly. With humility. And before we repost articles about vaccinations and government conspiracy theories, we listen. We listen. We listen to the hearts of our neighbours and our families and we wait. Quietly.

Because we are souls, not systems. We were not built to be a system. We were built to be a collection of souls. That’s what Church is: a collection of souls. And we, as a family, are beginning to think creatively. We are channeling our innovation to recreate the spreading of the gospel. Because we don’t change the goal. We change the method of reaching our goal. And Covid has not changed our goal. Covid has simply prompted us to think outside the box, to recreate our method of delivery.

This week, as you maneuver through grief and loss as Covid exists globally, more prominent in some places than others, may you count gifts. But also may you admit the hard. The lonely. The loss of all that was familiar and stable. May you cling to Christ, and to the collection of souls around you. May you crawl forward, slowly, with listening ears to the cry of the hearts of others.