Culture Shock

A week and a half ago I was practicing walking in high heels on a red dirt runway while my African sisters giggled and sang the wedding march. Babies subbed for bouquets, and we were like little girls playing dress up for a far, far away fantasy land.

Yesterday I had the hair, the dress, the eyelashes and the shoes on a rose garden runway while tears of thanksgiving fell as one of my most beloved sisters in Christ said, "I do." The other bridesmaids and I stood in the middle of a dream coming true and heaven reaching down with a kiss to Tacoma, Washington.

You could say I'm in a bit of culture shock. But, really, culture shock is an understatement after a year away from the American culture - a year of wrapping arms wider and tighter around little brown South African bundles of beauty.

In the past week, there have been hours of sweating profusely in stores and leaving tearfully with nothing in my hands to show for it, garment bag meltdowns, driving on the wrong side of the road, forgetting everything - all the time, and iPhone app outbursts. (It is RIDICULOUS that there's a Starbucks card app, isn't it!?!)

I may or may not have brought a plastic hotel laundry bag as a purse to the wedding last night.... So maybe I don't quite have it all together.

And I'm not sure if I ever will.

But I'm learning to be thankful for that.

I'm thankful that I don't thrive in the American culture. (Except on the dance floor, of course.)

I'm thankful that my inability to grasp even the 1st layer of the South African culture keeps my friends there entertains and reminds me I've done nothing to deserve this life and these blessings.

I'm thankful that I don't speak any earthly language all that well.

I'm thankful that my skin, my accent, my mannerisms and my most-things don't ever line up just right.

I'm thankful that I get to live and love with a group of people in South Africa who don't fit in with the culture there either, and then come back to visit family and friends who love me with love bigger than the whole wide world.

I"m thankful that I get to be a daughter in the Home that makes sense and try to mirror that Home in my own home as a mama.

I'm thankful that things don't have to be smooth, painless or even properly accessorized to be holy.

I'm thankful that I never have to be Homeless because the One who is Home in me moved in when I said, "I do." 

So I'm choosing to be thankful and giving up on American assimilation. I'm going to hug and hold and love oh-so-squeezy tightly for the next 5 weeks. I'm going to be thankful when I feel overwhelmed, out of place, and Home-sick.

I'm going to remember.
I'm going to walk in my inheritance and Family rather than my alien status, no matter which side of the world my feet land on. 

Want to walk with me?