Love and Lose (And Do it Well)

I think it hit me today that I did not come to Chiang Mai for my benefit. Yes, I have benefitted greatly from this experience. I have grown so much professionally and personally. I have been challenged and encouraged every single day, but coming here was not for me. It was for the students with whom I have had the privilege of working.

One of my fears in signing up for the program for overseas student teaching (POST) was that my students wouldn't like me. Even writing that makes me cringe. I have had more notes, hugs, compliments, and "thank you"s (in multiple languages) than I can count. Most recently, a ninth grader asked me to the school dance and a twelfth grader joked about getting my phone number. No matter how many times they annoy me, these kids have stolen my heart. And from their responses to my impending departure, I believe many of them have a place in their hearts for me.

It is this "impending departure," however, that has me worried. Leaving and being left are common occurances in the lives of Third Culture Kids (all of my students are TCKs in some way or another), and I feared that my much-too-short time with them was perpetuating the painful reality of the transient world in which they live. Has it even been worth it? I asked my housemate and friend Becky today. I was afraid I had made their already tangled lives more difficult.

Becky quickly countered my fear. They are richer for having known you and having been taught by you. She said. And you are richer for having known them and taught them. You know what? She is right.

I used to despise the saying "It is better to have loved and lost than never loved at all." I got so upset when people would say it because I felt like it wasn't true. For all of its perks, love is incredibly painful. Why woud I go through all of that knowing it would all end in disaster?

Yet, here I am, loving these kids and being willing to let them go. Sure, we'll be friends on Facebook when I officially finish student teaching, and we'll like each other's status about Thailand and jet lag, and we might see each other again because this world is a very small place, but my work here is done. That moment in time when I stood before 23 juniors and seniors and asked them to watch what they say because their words have power will never come again. That split second when I realized I had fallen in love with my 43 freshmen as they loved on Thai elementary school children is not going to happen the same way again. I could never get back those moments again, even though I will teach hundreds of teenagers in my lifetime.

Am I depressed that I will never get this back again? No. I'm blessed. I'm rich with the experience and the memories and the lessons learned. Third Culture Kids who are able to process their experiences (with the help of parents, teachers, counselors, etc) are able to love and lose. It happens. It hurts. They know it because they've experienced it. They often struggle to deal with the grief (many TCKs often unheathily build up unresolved grief), but with help, they work through it. They are richer for having had the Third Culture Kid experience, and most are very proud of it. Losing hurts, but they loved and invested; they unpacked and planted trees. It is the relationships that make the experience worth it. TCKs lose much, but they gain so much more.

I hope and pray that the too-short months I've spent with these precious students have somehow encouraged them. May they find God and his grace right where they struggle most. May they be motivated to keep on keeping on. May God's name be lifted and praised before mine is even remembered. He has great plans for them.

In Him,
--

"Seek Him. Be Here. Be His."