Naming Homesickness

Sto·ic

ˈstōik/

noun

noun: stoic; plural noun: stoics
        
      1.  a person who can endure pain or hardship without 

      showing their feelings or complaining.

I'm stoic.  I know it.
My family probably knows it.
My CPE supervisor certainly knows it (she regularly told me so).
In the fullest definition of the word, I am stoic.  And that's ok.

But it's because of my incredible stoicism that I have a hard time admitting it.
(pause for a deep breath and an induced suspense-filled anticipatory moment)

I am homesick.  (Take that stoicism)

It's true. I do miss home. And because I hesitate to admit it out loud to anyone who asks, I confide in the secrecy of my online diary journal blog.  Let me be clear up front, Malaysia (the people, culture, friends, housing, weather, etc.) is not to be blamed for me feeling homesick.

When I was a kid (sometime during elementary school), I had a good friend named Justin.  One weekend I was invited to Justin's house for a sleep over.  To my recollection, it was my first sleep-over at a house that wasn't mine or a family member's.  I was excited, I think.  I remember playing Ninja Turtles in the basement, both action figure and nintendo.  Cowabunga!  I vaguely remember having a snack of some sort and perhaps pizza for dinner.  I remember it was time to go to bed.  Twenty-years-ago-Daniel thinks he laid in bed for hours before admitting he was homesick and wanting to go home, but present-day-Daniel knows it was most likely less than 10 minutes.

It wasn't Justin's fault.  It wasn't his parents' fault.  It wasn't the bed, pillow, or lighting.  It had nothing to do with their house at all.

In my own, uneducated, opinion I think my homesickness was fueled by the absence of 'normals' - routines.  It was the first time being away from everything comfortable, and there is nothing stronger than the silence of a pillow in a strange place to remind you that you're away from your 'normal.'

It wasn't my bed or my pillow.  It wasn't my room or my house.  It wasn't my parents down the hall.  It wasn't my bathroom sink I brushed my teeth in and it wasn't my 'normal'.  I missed the familiar, the routine.

The majority of my conversations thus far with people in Malaysia consist of weather and food, but for the first time a parishioner asked me if I was missing home and if that was hard.  Stoic-Daniel paused and started to shake his head no.  But honest-and-relieved-Daniel interrupted and said, "Yes, actually I am missing home.  Thank you for asking."

He doesn't know it, but it was the exact question I needed him to ask. It was such a relief to be able to say, "Yes, I am missing home" and not feel vulnerable or weak.  Stoic-Daniel would rarely tell someone I barely knew the truth in how I'm feeling, but in that moment it was comforting to know that someone cared enough to create a safe space for me to be honest.

Listen, Malaysia is incredible.  The people are awesome.  Our parishioners are genuine and passionate and caring.  Our housing is more than we could have asked for or expected.  There is food everywhere. Always.  And best of all, I'm with my wife (24/7).  But I can't deny that I, at times, feel homesick, especially this time of year.  And that is no one's fault.

A colleague reminded us this week that the typical period of time for culture shock to set in is 3-4 months.  Well, conveniently for us, 3-4 months coincides with the holidays.

I am missing the normal.  I miss my bed and my pillow.  I miss my family and my dog.  I miss my friends and my things.  I miss the traditions of thanksgiving meals and Christmas gatherings.  I miss getting a tree from the mountains on the Friday after Thanksgiving.   I miss the normalcies and routines of the holidays that I've known for 28 years.  It's no one's fault, and it's ok that I miss them.

I'm not seeking comfort or words of encouragement.  I'm not seeking gifts or packages or things from home.  I'm not (honestly) even writing this for you.  I'm doing this for me.  Naming my feelings (Yes, CPE feeling wheel, I know homesickness is not a feeling).

Home·sick

/'hōm,sik/

adjective

        
      1.  experiencing a longing for one's home during a period of absence from it.

I may be a stoic (and a good one at that), but I am a homesick stoic.  It's no one's fault.  I am simply naming it in the secrecy of my online diary journal blog for myself.

"Miss you too, dad!"

Naming It: Presumptions and Answers

To describe writing as a skill, forte, spiritual gift, hobby, or even an over-all general interest of mine would be the definition of exaggeration.  In fact, to be blunt, I don't much enjoy the task or process at all.  Articulating my thoughts or opinions within the context of proper grammar and syntax is not something I am particularly good at, and I have no doubt my high school English teacher Ms. Parsons would agree.

Coupled with my disdain for the process and practice of pen to paper, I hold very little interest for the task of reading either.  Reading, either as hobby or pedagogical necessity, seldom makes it to the top of my to-do list.  I could blog on and on about the over-used excuses or reasons for disliking literary arts (i.e. being forced to read uninteresting material in school), but that seems petty.  Why not save time by naming a thing for what it is rather than seeking hypothetical, or even realistic, reasons to justify my preferences?

Done.  I don't like to read.  Or write.

I can only assume the readers of this blog who know me will be nodding their head in agreement. That being said, for those who don't know me, I hope your interest is peaked, at least a little, and that you'll read on.

Now, allow me to be presumptuous:

If you don't like to read or write, then why the hell are you blogging?
It's a fair question. It really is.  I understand the curiosity and confusion behind practicing something I described as unenjoyable.  After all, it seems illogical and asinine to blatantly say "I don't like..." and then do it.  But when we're honest with ourselves, aren't we consumed with "I don't like....but watch me do it anyways" decisions.

For example, I don't like brussels sprouts or sauerkraut, but I'm willing to try them.  I don't like doing laundry, yet every week it seems I rinse and repeat the mundane process of cleaning my clothes.  I don't like to shave, but I do it.  I don't enjoy putting away the dishes, yet they seem to always return to their designate place.  Of course these are trite examples of necessary everyday tasks that must be completed.  And perhaps there is a significant difference between doing something that has to be done, and doing something out of choice, but I think every task (necessary or not) results with a similar outcome - a feeling of accomplishment.

I think I'm rambling.  The truth is, it's a great question, and I am still figuring out a perfect answer. The more I reflect on it, the more confident I am that the answer won't come in one sassy blog post. I think the answer will present itself sometime in the future as I continue (crossing my fingers) to blog.

As for now, in an attempt to fulfill the cultural need for instant gratification, I present you with three preliminary reasons for blogging:

1. Discipline.  I'll even go so far as to say a spiritual discipline.  Blogging regularly will take discipline.  Here is my first confession: I created this blog on June 17, 2015.  I didn't publish my first post until today, July 24, 2015.  It took me a month to complete one blog post.  I think there are any number of reasons as to why it took so long, the first of which is likely procrastination, but I hope to flesh them out through posts in the coming weeks/months.
2. Practice.  I know a lot of pastors who regularly post blogs and sermons, and with today's social media it is becoming a popular form of communication and reflection.  Specifically, one of my pastoral mentors recently took a new call, and as part of her call papers, the committee required that she post weekly blogs and reflections.  This was something she has not previously done, and I remember her sharing with me her struggles in beginning a new practice 15 years into ministry.  So, this blog is also for you, future call committee, who may one day ask me to blog about my experiences and reflect on the life of the congregation.
3. Growth - Personal and Professional.  I'm not too naive to know that writing your thoughts daily, or reflecting in more ways than just silence is a healthy thing to do (shout out to my CPE supervisor).  I learned quickly in CPE (although I argued that I was very self aware to begin with) that there are more thoughts and memories, experiences and observations inside my head than I can contain for myself.  Sharing them is healthy.  Talking about the person who pissed me off on the train or the heart wrenching story of the homeless woman I met is healthy to share.  Writing about the joys and (seldom) struggles of my marriage or the adventures we take is a good thing to do.  Articulating the experiences of my life, both good and bad will undoubtedly provide growth.  Finally, as a future pastor, part of my job is to help connect our stories with God's stories.  If I can't do that for myself first, then what does that say about my ability to fulfill my call.

These are the three answers/reasons for blogging that are currently on my mind.  One day I'll look back and say, "Wow I was wrong," or "Looks like I still have some work to do."

Why should I follow your blog?  Why should I care?
The truth is, I don't know.  You each have your own reason for clicking on the link to see what I had to say.  Maybe you're a family member who feels obligate to follow along, a colleague waiting with anticipation for me to say something stupid, or someone who supports me.  Regardless of the reason, welcome.

I hope that your time spent reading my blog is worthwhile, but I have to be honest from the start and say that every post won't be written for your benefit.  If I am truly taking on this task of blogging for the purposes of personal, professional, and spiritual growth, then we can agree that this blog is not just for pure entertainment.

That being said, you're invited to follow for three reasons.

1. Accompaniment.  For whatever reason you click on the blog link and started reading, you are a part of my story.  You may be directly by my side (Sarah) or far away, but you are a part of my story.  Growth doesn't always happen individually- after all, we are the body of Christ. The old phrase, "It takes a village" comes to mind.  I welcome your insights and reflections.  I encourage you to call me out and challenge me on things.  
2. Accountability.  I need your help.  At the beginning of my internship in August 2014, I started journaling.  I was journaling steadily for about a month.  Then, all of a sudden, I stopped.  I don't know why.  I need help keeping myself accountable.  I want to see this through.  Even though I may be kicking and screaming, I am committed to this process.  I give you permission to call my bullshit, applaud my successes, name my failures, and ask me why I haven't written in a month.
3. Adventure.  There is a lot happening in my life right now and it should be fun to follow along. I am a third year MDiv candidate for ordained ministry, I am getting married to the love of my life in 22 days, and We are traveling to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia for a year in 30 days.  All of these adventures will help to shape this blog, and it should make for some good reads.

So there it is.  Naming something for what it is.

Daniel