A new day

My Christmas "tree," courtesy of Helga. :-)

Well, Christmas is over, and I have to say that a big part of me is not all that sad to see it go.

Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays. For me it's always been a wonderful time to spend with family, have a few much-needed days off of school or work, and enjoy lots of good seasonal cooking.

This year, though, was obviously a lot different. As I've mentioned before, it just didn't feel like Christmas for me. The biggest reason for that, of course, was the fact that I wasn't with my family. Another contributor, though, was the fact that there was no break from work or school. For the last 19 years my life has revolved around the schedule of the school year, whether because I was a student or because I was working at a university. The biggest sign of the approaching holiday season has always been the impending end of the fall semester and the dreaded final exams. This year I guess you could say I've been initiated into the "real world" outside of academia.

The only constant this year was the good food. :-) Sunday evening Jim, Elsa, Birgit, and I had a wonderful dinner at Ingrid's house. And believe it or not, I'm actually growing kind of fond of red cabbage. I guess that's a good thing since it's a staple of the German diet.

I woke up Christmas morning, realizing simultaneously that it was Christmas Day and that I was alone in my apartment. (Another first for this year: my alarm clock, instead of my siblings, woke me!) I wasn't alone for long, though, because I went over to Jim and Elsa's around 11:00 to help Elsa prepare food.

All together, there were 17 people at Christmas dinner that afternoon. Except for the boyfriends of two of the women, everyone was there because, for whatever reason, they could not spend Christmas with their family. For some it was because their family was too far away. Others don't have a good enough relationship with family to spend holidays together. A few just don't have any family at all. I was really glad to be able to spend the day with these people, not only because they kept me from spending the day by myself but also because I got to know some of them better and because it was a good chance to encourage them on a day that could have been really depressing for many of them.

Most of the day went wonderfully. We had a good meal and had a lot of fun doing the gift exchange. The gift I opened was a battery-powered stapler, complete with a box of green, blue, and purple staples and a few batteries. It even had a clear plastic top so that you could see all the mechanical stuff working inside. After all the trading was over, though, I ended up with a glass rocking horse with a music box on the underside that plays "O Tannenbaum." So, I've got another Christmas decoration to set out next year.

I was having a great time...until we started singing "Stille Nacht." We'd sung some other songs, and I was fine during those, but for some reason when we sang that song I got this weird feeling of sadness mixed with anxiety that just kind of stuck in my throat. It was all I could do not to burst into tears right there.

Stefanie finally brought me home, and I was able to talk to my family for awhile and wish them a Merry Christmas. That helped me feel a little better.

Tuesday, though, was Germany's 3rd and last day of Christmas, and I really didn't want to talk to anyone that day. I spent the day in my apartment both because everything was closed that day, so I couldn't have gone anywhere if I wanted, and also because I just needed some time alone. I spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened the day before and why I was feeling the way I was. I finally decided that I had spent so much time trying to "prepare" myself for being here for Christmas, telling myself that everything would be okay because I had people with whom I could spend the holiday, that I didn't let myself acknowledge that I really was sad to be away from my family on Christmas. Karen and I have had several conversations about allowing ourselves to struggle. There's such a temptation to tell ourselves that we have no right to feel lonely or sad as we get adjusted here because there are other people out there who have
no family to miss or who are struggling with much greater problems than we are. We've finally had to tell ourselves that it's okay to struggle and that our struggles, no matter how insignificant they may seem (or we think they seem), are big and are important because they are our struggles. Our struggles are the only ones we can ever experience first-hand and truly understand, so of course they're going to be important to us.

Lately I've also found one part of my brain saying, "Stop whining, Alicia. After all, you got yourself into this." This thought came again on Christmas. My response was to scold myself for thinking that. Yes, I made the decision to come here, but as I firmly believe and as I've told many people, God has prepared me for being here and opened the doors for me to come. My next thought was, "Well, then is this God's fault?"

And that's when Jeremiah 29:11 drifted across my thoughts.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I can't describe the peace that gave me. It reminded me of the fact that I spent 2 years thinking and praying about coming here for the campaign and then another year and a half praying about coming back. God set this opportunity before me and paved the way for me to be able to take advantage of that opportunity. When I had my doubts and questioned the decision, there was always something or someone reminding me that I could do this and that it would be okay. There weren't the "closed doors" that so many people encounter. Why then, if I believe that God has led me thus far, would I even entertain the idea that He's making me suffer? God hasn't let me down so far, and I can't believe He's going to do it now.

...plans to prosper you and not to harm you....

Over the past several years I've heard all sorts of things about "culture shock." They say it usually sets in after about 3 to 6 months and that everyone experiences it and deals with it differently. We've all acknowledged that Mark and Karen have reached this point. I hadn't thought of myself, though, as being "eligible" for culture shock until I spoke with Elsa a couple days ago. She knew I was upset on Christmas, and I've also told her that I've not been sleeping well and have been having really weird dreams, some of which border on being nightmares. She finally said that, unlike Mark and Karen, maybe I'm handling culture shock inwardly. I hadn't thought about that, but I guess it makes sense. I think Christmas and the sadness of being away from family just complicated all the other things I've been dealing with.

Elsa said something else that I will never forget: "If this was easy, we'd be overrun with people wanting to come here." Obviously, since they don't exactly have a surplus of workers in the church here, "this" must not be easy. While Elsa's comment doesn't make it easier to be in a new culture and to be away from family, it acknowledged my struggles and reminded me that they're perfectly natural. It also boosted my confidence a bit because in a way she seemed to be applauding my efforts to take the narrow road, the one "less traveled."

I finally had a talk with God and determined to change my thoughts. To acknowledge my struggles with the language, culture, lonliness, etc. To accept my struggles for what they are and to work through them. To realize that "this too shall pass." To strive to see the positive things around me instead of spending so much energy concentrating on the difficult things.

And I decided not to wait for the new year. Today, after all, is a new day.