Five years ago I moved to the Dominican Republic.  This was never something I imagined myself doing at any point in my life.  I never had goals to live abroad or even travel the world.  I am a person who loves to sit inside my comfort zone. Even still, God brought my family over the ocean and onto this island.  After several years of living through cultural adaptation, here are my reflections: 

Cultural adaptation is a ride on the teacups.  Life becomes a series of spinning days, a constant motion with new sights at every turn.  Moments blur together, and the humming of new sounds and experiences creates a persistent lack of silence in the everyday.    

Some people love the teacups.  From the moment they step off solid ground, they enjoy the thrill of the exhilaration. They thrive in the fast-paced newness of a different culture.  They delight in the unfamiliar and in the differences they encounter around every corner.

Others need to focus on what is directly in front of them because the world outside is spinning too fast.  After a while, these individuals become acclimated, their surroundings come into focus, and they can begin to enjoy the ride.   

“Let your eyes look directly forward,  and your gaze be straight before you.”

Proverbs 4:25

Then there are the people in this world who, like me, hate the teacups.  From the moment I stepped onto this brightly colored ride, I have felt sick to my stomach.  The world is constantly spinning, and I just can’t keep up.  I can never take my eyes off of what is directly in front of me.  So much of my daily energy goes towards not becoming sick from the ride.  Does the spinning ever stop? Will I ever adjust? Will I ever have a feeling besides the continual “I just need a break from the ride to catch my breath?”

I don’t know.

I would have thought that after five years, I could at least tolerate the teacups.  It hasn’t happened yet, and my hopes aren’t very high that I will get to that place.  I still battle the nausea from the constant spinning of the ride.  

I have watched a number of missionaries come and go from our field over the last five years.   We keep a map of the world on our wall.  We put each missionary family on there when they deploy to their country of service.  When they return home, we place them at the bottom of the map.  Those missionaries now stretch halfway across the world.  

I watched those missionaries step onto the teacups when they arrived for orientation.  I watched their faces light up with the thrill of the newness. I watched them clutch the edge of the teacups with white knuckles. And I watched them adjust, bloom, and grow in the culture where they were sent to serve.  I thought many of the missionaries at the bottom of my map would be serving in their fields for years and years.  Surely those who love the ride would last longer than I. But for one reason or another, God had other plans.  

I’ve often asked God why He didn’t equip me to love or even tolerate the teacups.  Sometimes this one-sided conversation is out of curiosity, and sometimes it releases tears and frustrations.  I don’t think it comes as a surprise to anyone at this point that I am still struggling here, but in case anyone is just now joining me on this journey, I will give you a brief recap:

“The Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” 

Psalm 121:8

 We moved to the Dominican Republic in the summer of 2015.  Our first six months went well.  We were in language classes.  Abby went to a local international school. We learned how to cook, where to shop, words to say, and places to go.  We were adapting.  All things considered, we were doing well.  In December, we were surprised to find out we were expecting another baby.  

In February we were sent back to the States because of the concern surrounding the Zika virus.  And in May our third daughter was stillborn. That is when my world collapsed.  I could not carry the weight of grief and cultural adaptation at the same time.  I fell apart.  My brain struggled to compute anything and everything. Learning another language or how to live in a new world felt impossible.  

We returned to the Dominican Republic in July, 2016.  The following six months are very much a blur of pain and failure.  I leaned heavily into Jesus, wept into His Word, and let the Healer work on my heart.  I would like to say I am stronger because of those months of deep grieving and growing.  But so much of what I learned was how broken I truly am.  In many ways that is growth, and I am stronger.  But on the other hand, I lost so much of the progress I had made during the first six months, and I still have not been able to regain all of it.  

“The Lord is my strength and my shield;
    in Him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults,
    and with my song I give thanks to Him.” 
Psalm 28:7

In August of 2017, I began to reclaim my footing. I was able to go out of the house alone. I learned how to live with my anxiety.  I was homeschooling both girls.  We were at the point where I could see progress in our future, and then we found out we were expecting another baby.  Pregnancy after loss is its own unique emotional roller coaster.  It took every ounce of my being to put my trust in Him and to prepare to praise Him in all circumstances.  

In January of 2018, I was sent back to the states with a compromised cervix and admitted the next day to the hospital. There I stayed for six weeks on hospital bedrest. For a second time my family was unexpectedly uprooted and displaced from our routine and stuck stateside for an unforeseeable future.  By the grace and mercy of God, in May we had a beautiful and healthy baby girl.  And while the joy she has brought our entire family is immense and immeasurable, I cannot discount the toll that time back in the states, the stress of high-risk pregnancy, and a medical evacuation took on my entire family.  

At this point, I felt like the itsy-bitsy spider trying to climb up the waterspout.  The rain kept washing me away, and I just wanted to whisper to my weary self, “Just stay on the ground. Why do you keep climbing back up the waterspout?”  

 ^“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.” 

Deuteronomy 31:6

It took all the might I could muster to gather my two girls and my tiny baby and fly them over the ocean to set foot on the teacups once again.  Did I think it would be different?  Did I think I could adjust this time?  Did I think I wouldn’t be sick to my stomach from the spinning? 

Sadly, no. 

I knew by then what I was walking into.  And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want to get back on the ride.  I did it because, right or wrong, we had made a commitment.  Originally when we went to the Dominican Republic, we said we would go for five years and then reevaluate.  Even though we were able to leave at any time and the five-year commitment was really more of a goal than a locked-in time frame, we felt that we should stay if we were able.  And even though I often feel I teeter on the line between able and not able, I still managed to get back on the teacups.

The last two years have had a few joys and many hardships.  Homeschool is still going strong, and I enjoy watching my girls learn and uncover new passions.  We have watched a seminary open and have its first graduating class. We have each had personal triumphs and struggles.  Almost every month, I was sure we wouldn’t make it a few more weeks, let alone five years.  

But here we are.  

It has been five years, to the day, that we first set foot in the Dominican Republic.  Our family has gained two more people, an abundance of friends, a little bit of tenacity and hardiness, a new perspective on life, and an appreciation for simple joys.   

If you would have lined up all the missionaries deploying to the field in the last five years and asked who would make it five years under the circumstances that each would endure, I wouldn’t have bet on us.  I wouldn’t have picked me.  

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” 

Ephesians 2:8-9

And standing here, in the Dominican Republic today, is not a testament to who I am.  Making it five years has nothing at all to do with my abilities, my strengths, my perseverance, or my grit.  It has EVERYTHING to do with what an amazing God we have and the steadfastness of His love.  It is solely by His GRACE that a person with weaknesses can still be on the teacups after five years.  And it is because of His GRACE that my brokenness is covered, and I have the strength to press on.  

“Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead,  I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 3:13-14