“Allowing room for the untried, the unpredictable, the unexpected”

 Transitioning into a new culture can take a long time—months or even years.

 

That’s because the “normal” we’ve lived within no longer exists—and something in humans resists giving up our normal.

 

We feel the urgency to keep hold of our sense of who we are and where we feel secure. That can make transitioning from “normal” to our “new normal” painful. Even scary.

 

I enjoy the way Marilyn Ferguson worded it: “ . . . It’s that place in between that we fear. . . . It’s like being between trapezes. It’s Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There’s nothing to hold on to.”

 

And so it was that I struggled to adjust to my new life in our remote mission center, Lomalinda.

 

But by God’s grace and with His help, I gradually made progress.

 

Take, for example, just one little step forward, one that was hardly perceptible, but it helped. It made a difference: I soon began noticing Lomalinda’s unique culture, and little by little I felt more at home within it.

 

Here are the things I was beginning to understand about the culture:

 

• When people came to your door, they didn’t knock. Instead, they called out “Knock! Knock!” 
• Wearing sweat-drenched clothes in public was not frowned upon—that’s because everyone did it. Not by choice. It’s just that there was no way around it.
• Orange-stained socks, shoes, and pantlegs were not frowned upon, either—that’s because in rainy season, thanks to the ever-present mud, everyone had orange-stained socks, shoes, and pantlegs. And no scrubbing or bleaching could completely remove the stain.
• Dust and grime on necks, faces, feet, and armpits was not frowned upon—because it happened to even the most cultured among us. We all had showers in the evenings, and the next morning we showed up at work and school all nice and clean—for a few hours, at least.
• When people drove by you on their motos, they’d give you an up-turned nod as a way of saying hello.
• At noon, Monday through Friday, the school and all offices closed and everyone went home for lunch.
• Hosting friends for meals was the most common way people entertained themselves. We had no televisions or movie theaters, and the world then knew nothing of videos, VCRs, the internet, PCs, laptops, iPads, or cell phones. Many families played games together in the evenings and read books, but the most popular pastime was enjoying dinner with other families.

 

Before long, I began to feel more comfortable with Lomalinda’s culture. It felt less alien to me.

 

“Are you open to change?” Chuck Swindoll asks.

 

I wish someone had asked me that question during my first couple of weeks. It would have caught my attention. I’d have noticed my resistance to change from my suburban Seattle culture to that of a rural mission center in South America. And I have a hunch the question would have changed my attitude.

 

“People who make a difference can be stretched, pulled, pushed, and changed. . . .” Chuck continues. “My position is on the side of openness, allowing room for the untried, the unpredictable, the unexpected” (Dear Graduate, Charles R. Swindoll).

 

Looking back on it now, I see that just noticing the cultural characteristics of my new home was a small step in the right direction.

 

And I was coming to understand that Lomalinda’s culture was good. It was different than I was accustomed to, yes, but good nevertheless.