I do not think it means what I think you think it means

Believe it or not the post that has gotten the most hits was Life as a TCK-20 Years Later. Because I enjoyed writing that post more than anything else I have posted, and because I have had a hard time sticking to writing just about babywearing and cloth diapering, I am beginning to think my blog, when I  blog, has taken a new turn. Its as if Inigo Montoya is saying to me, “I do not think it means what you think it think it means”. I don’t think this blog is turning out to be what I think I thought I wanted it to be. I think its going to be something slightly or completely different.

For example, since I wrote that post on being a TCK, my husband and I are up and moving our little family to Shanghai, China. Even a few months ago as I struggled with my feelings about growing up in a country that was not my own, I didn’t think I would be moving our daughters (oh yeah, this summer I gave birth to beautiful AJ! But that story is for another day.) across the world to Asia, a place I swore I would never live! Its a little bit of a long story as most twists and turns of life are, and here we are relocating, even excited about it!

I’m looking forward to moving, to having a change. I suppose there’s a little restless corner of my heart filled with wanderlust. When I experience travel and new cultures and am tired, the wanderlust is satisfied. But when I have recovered and processed my experiences, the heart grows restless and longs for a new place. Perhaps its the third culture-ness in me that won’t be satisfied, despite my best efforts and longings for a rooted place to call home. Maybe its the redemption and healing of that place in my heart that allows me to look forward to this move and walk my children through a journey similar to my own. After all, there are many wonderful things that come from growing up in another country and traveling with your family as a child. And part of me, the redeemed part, wants that for my children.

I’m a little scared. I know how I can be when I am swallowed in a new language and culture. The rough edges of my heart continue to shock me. But I’m also excited for those rough edges to be smoothed a little bit, for the condition of my heart to be softened and more accepting and loving of others. I’m looking forward to giving my children the gift of cultural exposure, young as they are. I’m even looking forward to the challenges that come with adapting to a new culture.

So here goes the blog, whatever direction it may take. I definitely need to come back to read this when I’m having a hard day of cultural adaptation!

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