Expat Friendships: Loving Hard and Loving Fast
I was being selfish and I didn't know it. I held my heart with shaky hands, trying to protect it. What I thought was wisdom was a foothold to self-centeredness -- thinking I was much better off not knowing or letting myself be known if it meant sparing possible heartbreak.
I know someone warned me this would happen at some point. Multiple people, I'm sure, told me to prepare my heart for this.
“People will come and go,” they said. “Your life will be in a constant state of flux and transition will be your new normal.” I'm sure I smiled and nodded with every intention of taking the advice they'd shared. But somehow it still shocked me when the first wave of people started to say they were leaving.
I was nervous about making new friends when we moved. I think I translated the warnings about the come-and-go nature of people living overseas to mean I needed to guard myself. I thought I needed to be very picky and choosey about who I spent my time with because you never know when they can up and leave.
My husband and I even had conversations about not spending time with certain people if they didn't talk about wanting to live here long term. Ick. It hurts to admit. It hurts even more to admit that, until recently, we believed we were completely justified in thinking and building relationships that way. And as it turned out, the people we thought were the right ones, the ones that would stay here forever, were the ones that ended up leaving.
I was being selfish and I didn't know it. I held my heart with shaky hands, trying to protect it. What I thought was wisdom was a foothold to self-centeredness -- thinking I was much better off not knowing or letting myself be known if it meant sparing possible heartbreak. I was searching for something, or someone, to anchor myself to after having been set free from all that anchored me before. After some time, I offered my heart hesitantly to a few people, trying hard to force permanence into what everyone told me would be highly unlikely.
In this search for permanence and a deep desire for home, we loved people hard. For two years we chiseled away at the outer layers. The game nights and bible studies and heart-to-hearts and weekends away did the work. We became, in the best way we could, raw with one another. We became family. It happened fast because we all craved it. We moved and lived so far from our family and friends in our home countries, far from the people and places who had known us best. When we thought we had found our people, we loosened our grip. Our hearts were theirs for the taking. We longed to be known and to know one another.
My imagination secured for me a future of permanence: we’d all grow together, and look back on when we first arrived and laugh. We’d celebrate all the holidays forever and have one another to run to when cultural wonkiness tried to have its way. Our kids would grow up together, we’d all grow old and become seasoned in this expat life together.
But a lot can happen in two years. Life trajectories change. I’m afraid what I discovered was this: what I thought was forever was only a two year season. The heart I held so carefully and offered so scarcely was broken anyway.
I think it’s okay to be broken — at least for a little while. This season of change has reminded my heart that while people and relationship statuses and circumstances are rarely permanent, the good and loving perfection of our God always, always is. My mom used to tell me it was okay my heart hurt — it meant I had loved hard enough for it to feel. Vulnerability leaves us unguarded, but it also allows us to love and be loved in return. The perfect, never-ceasing love God lavishes upon us wasn’t meant to be held with tight fists. It was meant to spill out all over the place and onto the people around us, regardless of how long they’ll be around or what season they’re in.
We were always a little afraid to share any tendency toward wanting to go back to the U.S. It was a conversation, if ever put on the table, which scared us all to death. It rocked the boat just a little too much for our liking, threatened the illusion of permanence we were trying to create. The tendency to avoid the conversation may have added to the shock factor of hearing our friends were leaving. They had to tell us eventually, but we didn’t prepare ourselves for that very real, very understandable possibility.
Working and serving overseas is a noble thing -- a brave thing, even. Because it is such, it can seem like the absolute right thing — causing me to think any other choice is surely the wrong thing. If ever the conversation had moved in the way of returning home, I was quick to steer it toward staying — because obviously, this was where they’re supposed to be.
But who am I to know where they were "supposed” to be? The people that are planning to leave or have left the country we work in to go back home are people whose lives and hearts are in very capable hands. The only direction I should be steering them toward is to the One who knows them, who has redeemed them and called them forward into glorious light. And while I deeply mourn the loss of everyday life with our friends, I am so glad that I knew them while they were here. I’m grateful for the part they'll forever play in my story.
“Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins” 1 Peter 4:8.
Above all, says Peter in his epistle to exiled Gentile brothers and sisters. The most important thing we do, no matter the distance or circumstance, is to love each other, and love each other deeply and boundlessly. It can be all too easy in this expat life to put up a jaded wall, tired of the seemingly never-ending fluctuation of people coming and going. However, the most important thing is not making sure our hearts aren’t broken. We are deeply known and loved by God, who longs for us to deeply love and know him. We can do that together.
So let’s love while we have the chance. Let’s pour out our hearts out and carry one another’s burdens. Times will be lonely, I’m sure, but they’ll also be full. Ground yourself in the truth of the Word that never changes and love with all you’ve got.
