This is a life observation and chronicling post.
Since signing my contract paperwork to go to Korea, I have been inundated with a to-do list to complete for my visa. I have accomplished one item on that list: print the paperwork to submit for my background check. Behind it about are approximately a gajillion items to check off, but perhaps the most important of them is the task of telling my friends and family.
I have no reason to tell the entire social media world just yet. There’s a big part of me that fears something will go terribly wrong with my visa and I won’t go at all, thus compelling me to keep quiet about it online, save for here. As it stands, I’ve told my team at work and my principal. I’ve told my close friends at church, and as of today, two members of my family. You see, my family is tricky, as most families can be. My friends at church are highly supportive, and in many ways have become my new chosen family, as shown by the fact that I told them the news first.
My blood family, however, is stickier. My mother’s side is estranged for reasons surrounding her illness after my parents’ divorce. And my father’s side is currently divided over a childish family dispute. Lines have been drawn, and I have been outcast, at my father’s request or doing, I’m uncertain as to which. I only know the end result. It’s isolating, and it’s painful. The family members that still speak to me I know will be supportive of my move, and that’s all that really matters. The trouble is I feel it is the godly thing to tell the rest of my family about my international move.
I am currently reading BECOMING magazine, a new, ad-free annual publication about our walk as Christian women. This issue is about our identity in Christ. I recently read an article in it titled, “We are heirs,” and it explores the part of Romans 8 that highlights our spirit of adoption, and therefore, heirs with Christ. It discusses the idea of the Church as being our family, as called, adopted heirs with Christ.
When I was baptized, it was my church family who celebrated with me. When I had my miscarriage, it was my church family who consoled me and prayed with me. When my mother died, the bulk of the attendees at her memorial were made up of my church family. When I moved, the movers were my church family. When I decided to apply, enroll and quit grad school, it was my church family who supported me. And as I’ve stepped into this next step in life, it has been my church family who has supported me every step of the way, including telling them when I got an offer. So in a sense, I have told my family first, which somehow gives me a sense of ease to tell my biological family now.