The Pain of Transition

What is this feeling that tears at my heart? Some might say it’s love. Some might say it’s heartache. I’d say it’s a little of both. For the past four years I’ve been gradually taken out of my comfort zone. I’ve been stretched and embarrassed and had a really good time. I’ve learned how to love with my whole heart and trust God immensely.

I suppose many people would turn their hearts cold against God in this time of pain and trial. Many would ask, “Why? Why does this have to happen to me? When I was just getting adjusted you go and rip me out of everything I’ve known to be life.” I’m not saying I’m not asking why, because I am. However I’m asking it not out of anger but of sheer curiosity. In Bandung I had some of the best friends anyone could ask for. I had a friend to cry with, a friend to laugh with, and a friend to scream with. There was someone to strangle in times of frustration and someone to say, “Lauren snap out of!” when I was acting completely out of character. I had friends to accept me for exactly who I was. When I didn’t feel like wearing make-up anymore or getting all dressed up for school anymore; I didn’t, and that was ok. Some friends even joined me in that.
It didn’t matter because I was Lauren and everyone knew that. They knew that I would be there if anyone needed anything – money, extra socks, Advil, Sharpies, double sided tape, contact solution, and many other random items. I was the “mom” of the entire high school, the one that anyone and everyone turned to in their time of need. This role was not only for material objects but also for guidance and a gentle listening ear. Everyone knew that I had a gift. No matter what, Lauren would know what to do. I was the nice person who got along with everyone and could talk with anyone.

One thing that I can’t deal with is fake surface stuff. I like it when people get to the point. I love to help people in any way that I can and I love to listen to people. It excites me to just sit and observe people especially when they don’t know and they carry on in their normal environment. In America though, it seems like no one needs help and there’s nothing for me to do. Since I’ve been here, I’ve been holding in my desires to help because I see no where for them to be carried out.

The point of all this is that in Bandung I was established; people knew who I was. My friends were there for me in times when I wasn’t feeling myself and I was there for them. Now I’m in America and no one cares. Going from a place where most people can relate to you and where you can talk about the same things every time you go to Starbucks together but no one cares because they’re all going through the same thing, then coming here where everyone’s like, “Oh cool you lived in Indonesia. Is that in India?” I smile politely and shake my head, “Nope, it’s a separate country.” Sometimes it drives me to the point of insanity at how uninformed and uninterested and I guess just plain shallow Americans are.

What I’ve learned is that I can’t make people realize who I am. For the most part it’s not important to them where I come from or what I’ve been through. Their lives have already been established and they’ve already created their own cliques and points of knowledge. I’m not saying these are bad people. Honestly, I feel somewhat sorry for them. I feel as though I have had a much enriched life learning about the cultures of Australia, Korea, Japan, Indonesia, England, etc. and they have all missed out on that experience.

It’s difficult to find people to relate. Other than my friends who have moved back from Indonesia, I know two other people who seem to actually care and one of them I just recently met. It’s important for me to be able to talk about my life and have the other person genuinely be interested. I want to be interested in their life, so I only think it’s fair. Without their knowledge, these two people have been there for me in some dark times. Though my outside expression doesn’t show it, this past month in the states has been very difficult for me. However God once again provided for me and just when I thought, “That’s it, I can’t take it anymore,” just when I got to the point of almost locking myself in my room and hiding out for the next year, one of these friends was there for me and that means a lot.

Over these next couple of months I’ll be praying for God to strengthen these friendships in particular so that in those times of missing home and needing human companionship I will have someone to turn to. I have already been turning to God and I thank him tremendously for giving me the opportunity to begin friendships with these people and for those friends that I have yet to meet.

As many of you are going through transition, I pray that He will continue to lead you and provide for you. Thank you for the impact you’ve had on my life and for your prayers.