Who am I?

If you’ve stumbled across this blog and you’re looking for the simple answer, I guess you could say I’m an expat wife and mother of four living in Thailand and trying to figure out what is happening in my life. If you care to stick around a minute, I’ll try to go a little deeper.

Some expats race across the globe as if they can hardly wait to get on to the next adventure; others are dragged kicking and screaming the whole way. I fell somewhere in between. I never dreamed of moving away from my passport country, yet somehow here I am.

Visiting Europe? Absolutely. Give me a few weeks to soak in the history and the architecture, to listen to the accents and fill up on pastries.

Checking out the beaches in Hawaii? Most definitely. The sound of the ocean waves lapping the beach, the vast expanse of blue sky and water, the heavenly taste of warm banana bread bought at a little stand along the Hana road, and an evening spent at a luau. Now THAT is a vacation.

Traveling across the US in a van full of kids and luggage, trying to see every historic site within a 3-week drive? Bring it on. Give me Williamsburg. Yellowstone National Park. The Rocky Mountains of Glacier. The Grand Canyon. Fill my eyes with grandeur and empty my wallet of entrance fees, then send me on home.

But MOVE in “mid-life” to a “developing country” where they speak a very difficult language that is nothing like English? Stand in a market trying to figure out what exactly it is that I’m looking at? Take my life into my hands every time I pull out into traffic?

Now why would I ever do a thing like that?

I confess. I am a traditional woman. I never aspired to be CEO of a major corporation or an entrepreneur; I never dreamed of dressing in suits and being respected for my well-thought out opinions and savvy business sense. I’m simply not the career-woman type. I only ever wanted to be a wife and mother. I’ll be forever grateful to God for allowing me my dream of being a stay-at-home, homeschooling mother of four. But it certainly never occurred to me that one day I’d be doing this overseas.

So who am I? And where is home?

I have come to realize that my identity is wrapped up in my home and family. This makes the concept of home a little more complicated for me. Ah, so fluid and fickle, these things are forever changing on me, leaving me caught in the whirlwind and looking around longingly.

My child, Look Up!

I’ve watched as my belongings were sold to strangers for a pittance – or packed away in boxes to be looked at again in four years. I’ve moved out of the only house three of my children ever really knew – the one I thought we’d be in forever. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours, and we made hugely happy memories there.

Now I’m getting older (really, there’s no point in denying it – this is life at it’s real-est). My oldest is in university and living literally half-way around the world from me. And I see the days oh so quickly approaching when her siblings will follow in her path. It’s the way it should be, but I’m the nostalgic, melancholy sort.

So still the questions echo through my mind. Who am I? Where is home?

My husband says home is wherever I am. He’s a keeper. And I certainly agree that I could never call anyplace home that didn’t have him there. But men are so easy, and I am so…high maintenance.

If you thought perhaps you’d get to the end of this outpouring and find the answer to the questions, then I must say I am surprised. I continue plodding through this journey, with its joys and sorrows and confusions. Each day is new, and yet old, too. The truth is, I have a good life. But as far as my questions?

I don’t know. But I am waiting. Watching. Listening. I hear Him calling.

My child, Look Up!

I tell my girls to always remember who they are – beloved daughters of God. 

So today, that is who I am. I’m still waiting on home.