Last night I stuck my head in a bedroom door to say goodnight to one of the children, and I discovered a tear-stained face, most unusual for this particular child. I immediately knew the cause, however. Just a couple of hours before we had said our good-byes to a German exchange student who has been part of our church family for the past twelve weeks. Such a short period of time, and yet he had worked his way into the heart of our son. Through his tears this child inquired of me, "Mom, if I find it this hard to say good-bye to someone I have known for just a few weeks, how will I ever manage when we move back home to North America?"
I have no easy answer for this question. I could only offer sympathy and acknowledge to him that I think about this dilemma every single day of the week, try as I as hard as I will to block out such thoughts. It will be as deep a grief as any we have ever known, and while I don't wish to begin the grieving process ahead of time, it seems nearly impossible at times to stop it. I have even thought the words in my own mind that it will be like a death, and so when a friend here used that exact phrase to explain her opinion that we are not meant to return just yet, I did not disagree with her.
Lately Ross and I have wrestled with the question of our return date. Before we left, I assured our friends and family that we would be back within two years. We are now more than one month past that point. I assumed then I think that this overseas move would be similar to the first one, the move that took us to the U.K. eleven years ago. During the entire period of our twenty month stay in England, I never wanted to do anything other than return to the U.S., in spite of the many fantastic experiences we enjoyed there and the friends that graciously made room in their lives for us.
This move has been different. We do deeply miss our family and friends back in North America. Nothing can replace them in our lives and hearts, nor would we wish them to be fully replaced. Staying longer than our original intention seems akin to a betrayal of them of sorts, and yet we are not quite ready to leave Australia, in part because we know we will not likely be back except to visit. Why we should feel so strongly about not wanting to leave I am not entirely sure. I suspect that somewhat paradoxically it may be due to the very strength of the roots we had put down in Pittsburgh during the eight years we lived there.
Before Pittsburgh Ross and I moved so often that we really never felt completely settled anywhere. This made all that moving a bit easier. Then along came four children, and the picture changed considerably. Not only did we forge multiple connections in our neighbourhood, our church, at work, and in the local homeschooling community, our children made many friendships as well. We relied on many different people throughout the week, and in turn felt needed by them. When Ross dropped the Australia bombshell, there was no part of me that wanted to go along for the ride.
As you know, I did eventually experience a change of heart. There were many reasons for this. Loving Ross as I did, I wanted to see him fulfil a life-long desire. I also thought this could be a unique bonding experience for our family, something that would strengthen the bonds of our children both to us, and to each other. The Australia adventure would be not just a fantastic opportunity to see another part of the world, but would become part of the fabric of our lives as a family.
To make this happen, of course, required great loss. It meant saying good-bye to many, many people, and tearing ourselves away from our families and from the community that played such a big role in our lives. Was this a selfish decision? I have wrestled with this question on may occasions, and I cannot say with complete surety that it was not. Certainly there were times when our thoughts were completely self-centered. For example, I am sure we devoted many more hours to considering what the move would do to us, as opposed to how it would affect others. We believed it to be best, however, and we forged ahead.
The enormity of this loss did not really hit home until we began the process of settling in down under. Mixed in with the trips to Trampoline for gelato, Tim Tam slams, the visits to the wonderful bakeries, and all the fun sightseeing adventures, came the loneliness, a loneliness that deepened with each week. There were more days than I care to remember that I could hardly summon the energy to get out of bed in the morning. The children were affected as well. I remember one particular moment when Cameron turned to me and remarked, "Mom, this is kind of fun and all, but what I want to do is go outside and play with Josh, or to have Zeff over to play Legos." I felt a bit guilty, because we had worked really hard to get the children excited about this move, and had purposely not advertised to them the difficult parts with which we were at least partly familiar from having done this before.
I think in part because of what we had left behind, we felt driven to forge relationships that went below the surface, to do more in Australia than play the role of tourist and enjoy ourselves. There was a hunger for more, a drive to connect deeply with others, and to become part of the fabric, the life, and the soul of a community. We have not always succeeded in this goal, but where we have, we recognize that the privileges, the pleasures, and the joys of such connections will be extremely difficult to sever. We do not look forward to that pain, but at the same time, we would not have it any other way. When, eventually, we look back on Australia, I have no doubt that the people we have met will figure far more prominently in our hearts and minds than the koalas, the kangaroos, and the marvels of the Great Barrier Reef. For now, our wish is for just a bit more time to spend with them this side of heaven.
Very well written...
Posted by: Monique | 08/31/2012 at 12:56 AM
It will be different when you leave Australia b/c you just don't know when or if you will be back. So I can see how it would be sad. You've done such a great job at meeting people and putting yourself out there, I admire that so much about you!
Posted by: Shanda Ives | 09/07/2012 at 04:31 AM
You write beautifully...
Posted by: Julie | 10/15/2012 at 09:55 PM