One of our greatest pre-field training components took place over the course of a month in Colorado. At the time, Eli had just finished a job in an ER, we just had a baby, and we had just moved from Minnesota to Michigan as part of our eventual transition to Africa. In other words, our life was in utter chaos as we arrived at training. I personally was an exhausted, bleary-eyed mess, nursing an infant round-the-clock on top of managing a toddler and preschooler. The information we acquired during that month was only minimally heard and understood by my malfunctioning brain at the time.
There were, however, some nuggets I did hear and understand and have carried around with me ever since. One of those nuggets was a statistic from someone somewhere. (You'll have to excuse the fact that my postpartum, transition-ladened brain wasn't able to process or remember the someone somewhere this statistic came from.)
We were told this: that a person living cross-culturally is, on average, only capable of functioning at 60% of their normal, living-in-my-own-culture capacity.
60%
I was shocked to hear this. That's a ridiculously small capacity to be functioning at. That's also a huge frustration to deal with daily, especially for folks like ourselves who come from a work-driven culture. We know how to work hard, how to make the most of our day, and how to push through till the job is done.
Except when we literally can't because the normal energy we conjure to do said things simply doesn't exist.
I had a hard time wrapping my mind around this concept. I wasn't sure if I believed the statistic. I certainly didn't want to believe it. Especially because it meant sacrificing so much to live overseas and only being able to accomplish 60% of what we set out to do on any given day.
That's discouraging. That's defeating. That's frustrating.
So I did what a lot of pre-field missionaries do. I told myself that it probably didn't apply to me. Surely that statistic is not true for everyone. It can't be! It's only a statistic and statistics, by nature, don't apply to everyone.
Well, that is true. Statistics don't apply to everyone, and I have some missionary colleagues who this doesn't seem to apply to.
But it didn't take long of living overseas for the inclination of "that doesn't apply to me" to come crashing to the floor.
That was discouraging. That was defeating. That was frustrating.
That was also humbling (as were so many things in those first weeks and months of life on the mission field).
It wasn't that I had notions of grandeur, thinking I'd be some kind of superhero missionary. I really didn't. I knew I'd make a million mistakes on the way to glory, as many missionaries have quipped before. And I was totally okay with that. It's just that I really thought I was a highly capable person, certainly more capable than functioning at a mere 60% capacity.
But it turns out I'm not. I am a rather average missionary whose brain feels muddled most days and who tires out way earlier than I ever imagined possible before living overseas.
And here's why:
Whenever I go into town in Kenya, my mind is racing with energy-sapping thoughts. Should I greet that person? Should I not? How will they perceive me if I greet them? If I don't? Do I speak in Swahili at the market? What's that one Swahili word again? Will I confuse them with my blundering language attempt? How will I answer if they speak Swahili back but it was too fast for me to understand? Why is that man calling out to me? Is there a rational reason and I should acknowledge him, or is he just another creep who finds a mzungu woman novel and attractive? How are my actions (or lack thereof) affecting the general perception of missionaries in this community? All of these thoughts swirl through my head before I even reach the market.
Conversely, whenever I go into town in America, I never think about how to interact with those around me. I inherently know what is and isn't appropriate behavior without even thinking about it. I also don't have to wrestle with language hurdles while inquiring about tomatoes.
Here's another example:
Whenever someone requests financial assistance from us, we have a lengthy discussion about what to do. Even after we make a decision, we usually have a lengthy discussion about whether we did the right thing. Why are they asking for money at this particular time? Is their need genuine? Have they asked for help from anyone else yet? What kind of relationship do we have with this person, and therefore what role would we assume if we choose to help? Are we helping as a friend or a sponsor? What ramifications will our assistance have on this person within their own community? If their family or neighbors find out that wazungu provided help, will it cause problems and throw the community equilibrium into upheaval? How much is an appropriate amount to give? Whatever we give sends a message - so what message are we sending? Who can we talk with and seek advice from? How do we know what to do???
Conversely, if someone was to request financial assistance from us in America (and I say if because that hasn't happened yet), we'd still have a discussion about what to do and maybe even question if we made the right decision, but we wouldn't have to do mental gymnastics about the cultural implications of whatever decision we might make. It would simply be an easier thing to manage within our own cultural context.
And that's the thing. Everything is easier within our own cultural context. Communication is easier. Conflict is easier. Decision-making is easier. Everyday life is easier!
But because we spend our days living cross-culturally, we also spend our days expending an incredible amount of extra energy just to get through these days.
That's why I'm often totally spent by lunchtime.
That's why answering the door sometimes feels like the hardest thing I do all day (and the biggest achievement).
That's why I drink so much Coke - to give myself a kick of energy to get through the afternoons and evenings.
That's why I haven't succeeded in my goal of writing a blog post here every month - because writing takes so much creative energy, and creative energy is a hard-to-come-by luxury in the 60% functionality I'm capable of.
Experiencing the reality of this statistic is hard. But experiencing the reality of this statistic has also helped me have grace for myself. Since it's true that I simply cannot function at full capacity while living cross-culturally, it's also true that I need to have extra grace for myself and to be satisfied with whatever I am capable of.
The fact that I can scarcely get out of the compound let alone have next to no ministry outside the home? Oh well. My responsibilities on the homefront and within the compound are more than enough for me to handle. I will rejoice in what I am able to do within the walls of my own home and within our compound community.
The fact that my writing life creeps along at a frustratingly slow pace? Well, that's frustrating, but whatchya gonna do? I can't pull creative energy out of nothing - and I truly mean there is nothing to pull from some days - so I will rejoice in any writing I am able to accomplish, like this blog post here. Major victory!
I've come to accept the 60% statistic, even though it still irks me at times. Oh how I wish I could be more productive in this cross-cultural life! But apparently I am limited, severely limited. And thankfully that's normal.
So I choose to have grace for myself when I routinely set out to accomplish more than I'm able to and routinely fail at it. And I have grace for myself when I choose to give up before getting started because I already know how my limitations will impede whatever task I've got in mind.
Grace, grace, so much grace is needed. I pray not only that I will continue having grace for myself in this, but that others will have grace for me as well.
