Third culture

 In the early 1980s, I was invited to a strategic gathering. 

Large group. All different ages. Raised in countries on every continent. Brought together on purpose. 

Why? To gain understanding of a term coined by Ruth Hill Useem in the 1950s. 

And now found in Webster’s dictionary.

Third culture kid. TCK.

Third culture kid

 Our parents served in cultures other than their own. And we traveled between the two. 

The third culture was neither theirs nor whichever culture we happened to be growing up in. 

Third culture was and is shared by others raised in this way. We might have lived in differing countries. Yet we speak the same language of place and relationship. 

Wildly different is the setting of our childhoods. But we feel understood. At home in one another’s company.

It’s hard to describe. The recognition of connection when I meet another TCK. 

Leaving

TCKs understand on a visceral level the words I penned when leaving Indonesia. Right before my senior year in high school. 

On board the plane. About to cross the ocean to live in the country of my passport. And I wrote these simple, spare lines in a journal.

Goodbyes

Oasis of time
lapsed into forever.
The friendly faces
crowded and
suddenly
fierce with hurt.
Gone, with the
moving wind
of a jet’s
takeoff.

July 13, 1975—leaving Indonesia

I could hardly articulate it to myself. Much less to those in my passport country. 

But sudden loss hit. Nothing would be the same. 

Entry

My entry to the US was a soft landing. 

Cousins at a family reunion came alongside and helped me figure out current styles and popular songs. This made the cross-cultural transition a little less bumpy, going into my senior year of high school. 

Family loved and accepted me, no matter what. 

Teens at the church where we landed also welcomed me in. Like I’d been there all along. They didn’t ignore, but stayed curious about the bits and pieces of my life so different from theirs.

And, after months spent listening to their stories, laughing over their past experiences together at camp and conferences, I felt like I’d been on those trips too. 

Homesickness

That year in this particular body of believers was a turning point in my walk with the Lord. Preparing me for the harder moments up ahead.

And there were moments. Especially in my university years. Times when everyone would talk about their hometowns and high school football teams and homesickness.

But if I mentioned my friends and school in Indonesia? It was just a little too different. Too foreign. 

A homesickness too far away. 

Where are you from?

In university classes, at church, in the dorm, people asked, “Where are you from?” And sometimes they simply misunderstood my response. “Isn’t that in lower Alabama?” (Andalusia).  

I began to recognize a tug-of-war going on inside of me. Every time. 

Did I want to go into a long explanation of how I ended up calling Indonesia home? 

Or should I just give the city and state of our family’s permanent address in the US—a place I’d stayed in only briefly? And risk meeting someone who knew everybody and their grandma in that city?  It happens.

Crossing cultures

The Lord provided good friends who truly listened. And accepted me for who I am. Some of those were other TCKs with similar experiences. Others hadn’t left their home state until they came to college. 

All brought deep friendship and camaraderie.

Crossing cultures was something I’d done all my life.  

And now I was doing it again. 

Finding home.

In my passport country.

Third culture

Over the years, I’ve come to see another third culture. The Kingdom of heaven.

Many different kinds of people. Coming from various tribes and nations. All colors and multiple dialects. 

Yet speaking the same language of place and relationship. 

We are in the world but not of it. 

Already Home, but not yet.

Looking forward to the City with foundations, whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11:8-10).

Related posts

Begin to know Him now – Where is home? – Listing losses – Arrivals and departures – 1971 – Missing beauty – Loss – 

Hebrews 11:8-10