Tag: TCKs
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TCK Voices: “Guapo” Just Like His Dad
I have learned that I cannot carry the expectations of anyone else, nor can I try to force my children’s experiences to match my own childhood or what I see other families doing on social media. Being a TCK mom means embracing our unique reality…
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Almost but Not Quite: Holding the Reality of Living In-Between
In England, I would have stayed politely and quietly by the till, perhaps grumbling under my breath at the wait. Not so in Korea. In this balli-balli (quickly, quickly) culture, why delay? “Chogiyo!” I yelled in Korean. “Excuse me!”…
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TCK Voices: Shoes at the Door, “Home De-Pot,” and an Abused Family
I like to think of my life as a puzzle that the Lord is slowly putting together. There are many moments when I wonder what He’s doing, but I’m reminded again and again to trust the Author as He creates His masterpiece…
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Grief, Time, and the Pain of Transitioning Between Countries
I woke up one day, a stranger to myself. It was some two weeks after my move from Canada to Finland. Coming home, if one can call it that…
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TCK Voices: Everything Happens for a Reason
When I was leaving and saying farewells, it was very special just knowing that people loved me. I wrote thank-you letters to all my classmates just for being my friends…
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Tears
Oh the tears begin Is this a gift From way above Cleansing this darkness I simply welcomed in?
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Lifelong Journey to Have a Settled Home
i used to be an adventurous spirit excited to go outside restless to see the world longing to explore…
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Multiplied
Five plus two, dear dad, Times the multitude Equals twelve of such Heavy blessings much Of a stunning maths As a feast of mass…
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Change
So many lasts, Instances where I don’t tell people everything, Times when I say “If God wills,” knowing that in this case He doesn’t, Heartbreaks, Shattered expectations, Thoughts of “have I told you I’m moving yet?”
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Taking Flight: A Letter to the Skybound
I used to be afraid of flights. I would close my eyes and grab a hand. Would count down minutes until the ordeal was over. And when I landed, I would have lucid nightmares of myself flying through the clouds, alone, like a bird, with no protection against the elements…
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Losing Languages, Shifting Selves: On Accepting Change
The store owner leaned across the counter. “Your Lao pronunciation is getting worse,” she said bluntly. I blushed as I set down my packets of green mango, dried river weed, and rice noodles. When I moved to the States for college, I was so excited to find this Lao grocery store…
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