Fitting in when you enter a new culture can be a challenge.
My parents grew up in America and moved to Asia. Learned language and culture to fit in.
I grew up in Indonesia and loved the place of my childhood and teenage years. I spoke the language, played their games, knew how to bargain with the best. Had dear Indonesian friends.
But I wasn’t Indonesian.
Every four years we came and spent a year in the country of my passport. America.
I wasn’t sure I was American either.
Fitting in
Outwardly I fit in. Sort of.
Inwardly, I wondered.
Outwardly I learned the latest slang, asked my cousins about current trends in music and what to wear so I could appear “normal.”
This was pre-internet. Before news and pictures and communication crossed oceans instantly. Their help made me seem not so odd on the first day of school.
In high school, saddle oxfords had come back in. And overalls. Fitting in sometimes meant a few simple adjustments.
Friends
My senior year we lived in Shreveport, Louisiana.
I transferred from the tropical, open spaces of the Joint Embassy School in Jakarta, Indonesia. And entered Byrd High, a closed brick building of several stories.
All these changes at a critical point of adolescence could have spelled disaster.
But my grandparents’ church provided a great group of friends for me. In Sunday School and Acteens (missions group for teen girls).
They took me in like I’d been there all along. One of those friends stopped by our house many mornings so we could walk several blocks to school together.
Resettlement
Not long after the first semester started, a new student arrived.
Hanh was Vietnamese. Spoke only a few words of English. She was one of “the boat people,” as they were called.
Her family had endured a dangerous voyage over rough seas to flee the Viet Cong. Escaping with only the clothes on their backs. Forever leaving the home they’d always known.
Now they were being resettled in America. In Shreveport, Louisiana.
Entry
Hanh’s entry into this new culture was visibly, understandably traumatic. And she’d entered this new school full of strangers who didn’t speak her heart language. Fitting in seemed scary.
While I couldn’t identify with all she’d been through, I did understand the longing to fit in. And she had no one else coming alongside to cheer her on.
From her first day, we sat next to each other in Civics class and tried to communicate. With simple words and hand gestures. I helped her find the right pages in her book.
Helping Hanh enter a new culture that year redirected my focus to something and someone besides me. Gave me a new purpose.
Come alongside
Today, more than ever, people are crossing cultures in America. Making a new life in a land so foreign to them. Fitting in where nothing matches their former frame of reference.
As His people, we can be those who come alongside to cheer them on.
Learn their stories. Invite them into our homes. Help them figure out new words and strange new ways of life here. Pray for them and share the hope we have in Christ.
“Then the righteous will answer [the King], saying,
‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’
And the King will answer them,
’Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”
Matthew 25:37-40
What about you?
Have you helped someone cross into a new culture? Or feel at home in a new place? Welcomed the stranger? How has the Lord led you in this?
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One reply on “Fitting in”
Helping someone else during a time of stress – I have recently been both the helper and the recipient!
It strengthens my confidence in God’s perfect love and gives me boldness to pray for His plans.