Chapter 55 - Cracks & Cataracts

The following years in Colorado Springs are fulfilling as we live near family, sometimes helping Megan with the grandkids when Jared travels with his band. To Everett and Beckett are added spunky Francie and amiable Lyla. Nick and Linda eventually move to Orlando, Florida, so it is harder to keep up with Maddie, Hudson, and Macy. We miss them. Each time we visit they are taller, more mature.

Larry enjoys building houses, and we lead prayer groups in our home. I long to teach more and ask the Lord for open doors. After instructing two elective classes for Kings Seminary at New Life Church, I apply at Pikes Peak Community College (PPCC).

“I see you offer New Testament as a class. I have a lot of background in Bible history and theology…is there any way I might teach it?” I inquire of Richard Trussel, the chair of the philosophy department. He is middle aged, sandy haired, with perceptive eyes. I discover he was formerly a Lutheran pastor.

“Well, I can offer you an ethics class for sure, but the New Testament class is by video-conferencing. You would have a few students in front of you at the Centennial Campus, but students from the other three campuses you’d see on three screens.”

“I love the New Testament. Could I examine the textbook for the class, to study it?”

Richard considers awhile, then picks a book off the shelf. “Sure,” he offers. “I’ll give you both Ethics and the New Testament for next semester. You can sit in these classes now if you’d like to observe other professors instructing. Videoconferencing is not hard once you get the hang of it—there’s a technical support person in a nearby room.”

“Thank you. I’m thrilled with this opportunity!”

Richard smiles warmly and shakes my hand.

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For five years every fall I teach Ethics and sometimes New Testament. In the spring we take missions trips to India (and sometimes Malaysia or Nepal) and teach in Ywam schools. Both types of classrooms are challenging and fulfilling. At the community college I instruct from secular texts, with students from a variety of backgrounds. Christians love my stories highlighting ethical theories or biblical truths. Other more skeptical students sometimes evaluate me poorly at the end of the semester.

The contrast between classes at PPCC and India is profound. In Lonavala and Bangalore students are hungry for more Bible truth, eager to apply it on their subsequent two-month outreach. Many have come out of Hinduism and are fully persuaded Jesus is the Son of God—and they want more of the Holy Spirit’s power in their lives.

Though I continue friendships with a few PPCC students through the years, Larry and I especially grow close with the leaders of the Indian schools. We increase financial support as Prabha and Mary—now with two children—begin a church planting ministry in the slums. Niebano eventually returns to eastern India to preach and teach at her church. And Vijayan marries Luni and takes on more responsibilities at the Bangalore base. We email often and pray for them daily.

I am so grateful to be used in such diverse places, but occasionally question how effective we are. My parents invested decades of their lives to evangelize the Moni and Dani tribes, so their example often makes me question, “Where is my tribe?” I call my parents (now retired in Kentucky) from time to time to discuss this, and they pray with me. Dad reminds me that the Lord gives varied callings, and repeated short-term ministry in different locations can be very effective.

But compounded with the sense of missing my fulltime calling are the deficiencies of being a TCK (third culture kid). I know the positive aspects: “cross cultural skills in learning new languages…a wider world view, adaptability, and maturity. Third culture kids are often two or three years more mature—in some ways—than their monocultural peers ‘back home.’” (p.184)

But many TCKs also experience loneliness, confusion, and a sense of rootlessness. “TCKs will move an average of eight times in their first eighteen years.” There is unresolved grief over losing friendships, familiar places, people, pets, and other things so many times. “Global nomads must not only deal with the accumulated grief of successive losses, but must do so without the comfort of a clear sense of home. Our longing is for something more obscure, something always intangible.” (p.185, 188)

At different times I try to explain this sense of loss to my Dad—a feeling of not truly belonging anywhere. Home is the Ilaga Valley among my beloved Dani tribe, but I can’t return to live there. Not only are my parents retired, but I have lost fluency in the language…I could not communicate well without Dad or one of my brothers.

“Also, Dad, there were times in nurses’ training when I didn’t know where to spend Christmas, or summer vacation. Except for Zachary’s phone calls during the week, or dates on weekends, I had no family to turn to. None of the relatives called regularly—and I wasn’t emotionally close to them. When Romaine joined me in nurses’ training as a freshman in my senior year it helped, but I needed a parent to lean on.”

Dad is always patient with me, he tries to understand. Once he answers, “Well, Mom and I each left home around the age of 19….that was normal.”

“When you left me, I was 17—almost 18! And, you could go home in an emergency. Or telephone. I couldn’t come home to you—you were around the world. It took at least six weeks to get an answer to my letters. And I didn’t see you for four years!

These intermittent phone calls to Dad continue for several years as I mine out layers of grief packed like coal deep in my soul. As I open cracks of hurt, cataracts of pain and tears gush out. Slowly the emptiness is replaced with understanding, healing, security in God. Mom passes away and Dad lives in a retirement center in Florida, north of Orlando. When I call or visit, the process of healing continues.

“I’m sorry,” my father responds one time. “Mom and I didn’t know you felt neglected so much. The Alliance did things this way. We should have stayed another year on furlough to be closer while you started college.” Dad’s counsel and prayers for me are sweet—delayed nutrients poured on withered and needy parts of my soul. I grow in confidence, feel more secure.

Interestingly, during these years Nick and Jared share regrets over the number of schools they had to attend during our moves. Changes in geography and culture affected personal growth and adaptability. Larry and I needed to ask their forgiveness!

Each generation tries to counteract what negative influence they receive as a child. Only the Holy Spirit can give wisdom in how to balance the scales rightly for our offspring. I SO regret not learning these truths earlier.