“Home” for Christmas

This weeks marks the halfway point of our committed time in the Dominican Republic. We haven’t quite processed what this means, or what our next steps are. As a halfway mark, we’ve come “home” for Christmas! We have been greeted with icy cold and cold ice. We haven’t differentiated between the two yet.

We have felt surprisingly overwhelmed in last few days, but are so happy to be here after a year and a half away. Many parts feel like coming home. But many parts feel alien and uncomfortable. We are processing what it means to celebrate Christmas here this year. In these moments, we live between two worlds: both which we refer to as “home.” Compared to our origin country, we have a poor sewer system, a tiny Christmas tree, and way too many creepy crawlies. Compared to our host country, we have beautiful tiled floors, a glowing Christmas tree, and screened windows. We live between two sets of standards, both extreme, and both in which we do not seem to “fit.” “Fit” is just relative, though, and we are learning that meeting the physical standards of those around us (or across the world from us) is really just a poor measuring stick to put any focus on. I have grown in my ability to allow my children to wear pants that they wore a year ago, shirts that are covered in bleach stains, and patterned clothes that don’t match. It is strange to be a part of two worlds, two sets of very different social standards, and two entirely different cultures. The purpose of us moving overseas though, is so very evident in our boys and in our joys. They have changed. They have grown. They have survived life changing events with grace and resilience. They have learned a new language, a new culture, a new way of life. In all the transitions and all the adjustments over the past year and a half, we have empowered our boys to use their voices to advocate for themselves. Their small faces and long lashes are magnets to all the hands of all the people, and when someone so small experiences so much change, those hands are quickly overwhelming and alarming. The more hands that reach for their faces, for forced hugs, for unwanted tickles, the more they retreat. Our boys are loved so well. While everyone knows THEM, but THEY know very few. The loving hugs are so well intended, but to the boys, their ears ring with our stranger danger plan, kidnaping conversations, and listening-to-safe-people talks. They’ve exercised their voices. They’ve said ‘no thank you.’ And they’ve politely declined when offered hugs from people they do not know. While I look forward to the day they feel comfortable with the ones I love the most, I so respect them for using their words to advocate for their own safety.

Boundaries are taboo, and all of us believe in them but none of us master them. All of us need them, but none of us have the same, which makes things hard because one person’s boundaries will clash with another’s. We have said no to sleepovers over the holidays, and we have stuck to day dates and dinner dates, for the protection of our family alone time, rest, and the feeling of safety for our boys. I say this only to emphasize the living between worlds, the chasm that we sit in, as we practice old traditions but adopt new ones, too. We are so lucky to have two homes. We are so grateful to have two communities waiting to celebrate Christmas with us.

We will continue to fill the next two weeks with friend visits, family dinners, snow fort building, and breakfast dates, while simultaneously looking forward to church with our Columbian family, Saturday brunch with our neighbours in shorts, and taking our crazy dog for walks around the palm tree- filled neighbourhood. This Christmas season, we celebrate two homes, two communities, two cultures that have become who we are.