Early onset dementia (EOD) puts its victims and their caregivers into predicaments most of society doesn't expect or understand. Because of this, EOD easily and often threatens to bring poverty to families in the prime of life. (This is the last thing families need, when they're already dealing with a myriad of losses and challenges, such as shock, grief, and the gazillion-and-one responsibilities of caregiving.) Let me illustrate with a story: A couple years ago when I talked with community organizations who supposedly deal with patients living with dementia, I explained that Dad didn't understand the need for someone to stay with him during the day while the rest of us could go to work and school (I was in a full-time masters program at the time). I also explained that he physically walks out of day programs and that one of us had to skip work/school to stay at home with him. I said that we were desperate for a solution so that we wouldn't lose our livelihood.

These community organizations responded, saying they had no way to help us, and then they said, "Do your parents have a church or family in town?"

Well, when I explained our difficult situation to our relatives and my parents' church, their response was, "We can't help you. Have you talked with the government?"

When I spoke with our social worker, she said, "Well, we can't conjure up a solution out of thin air. We can't help you."

And that was it... Either Mom faced losing her job or I was going to put off my studies (with no way of paying off student loans) so that one of us could stay at home with Dad full time. We had no clue what the future would hold, but we knew we'd probably end up in debt and in trouble. It felt like we were drowning, and most people around us had no clue, because they didn't know what this kind of drowning looks like so they didn't recognize it in us. And when I tried to explain to relatives and church members just how desperate we were, some of them got defensive and attacked ME.

However, a few extraordinary families and churches (not my parents' church so much) helped us bridge that gap. They threw us a life-preserver in a very dark and hopeless situation. Because of them I was able to finish school, and we were able to move to a new place where our whole family lived under one roof and all of us kids pooled our resources so that Mom wouldn't have to work and could stay home with Dad.

Oh, the lack of understanding in our whole society about what dementia is really like for its victims and their caregivers is absolutely stunning. I feel grieved at how under-prepared society really is for the increase in Alzheimer's/dementia diagnoses that will come our way as the Baby Boomers age.

But on a much brighter note, the incredible generosity in the hearts of those who reached out with help for us is even more stunning. I feel encouraged that with compassion and sensitivity from people like this, there is still some hope for future dementia sufferers and their families.

This 2006 post came to mind just now as I work on journalling our family's journey. At this time I was visiting my soon-to-be husband in the US, it had been exactly a year since my break-up with a guy who denied that his porn addiction was a problem, and I was just at the point of deciding to leave his church in search of one where I'd feel more embraced. This post was sort of my last attempt to reach out to my church peers before leaving for good. I'm not sure, but the topic might be close to your heart also, which is why I'm pulling it from the archives for you tonight:

August 22, 2006:

Last night I hungrily watched and waited as Scott worked over the gas stove putting the finishing touches on our dinner as it sizzled in the wok. It was a beef stir fry with different spices and veggies, including bamboo, fresh ginger, sweet soy sauce, Indonesian dried hot peppers, and his favourite secret ingredient which I am not at liberty to disclose. Served over jasmine rice it was absolutely fabulous, and I enjoyed every last bit of it with my very own set of brand new re-usable chopsticks.

But during supper I let my mind wander to news I had received from home, and I had to fight the tears. It reminded me of an ongoing struggle that I've had ever since my family left Austria to return to Canada, which is namely the struggle to make lasting friendships with our peers at church. Sometimes we weren't in one place long enough to really make meaningful connections. Other times my brother and I were at the age where our peers were more concerned with popularity than reaching out to a couple pastor's kids. We've always been somewhat reserved, tired of changing church families every few years, sick of the politics and insincerity we've witnessed, and hesitant to reach out again and again only to be laughed at, or ignored, or simply tolerated by our peers.

I was reminded of a similar struggle I have felt in my current church, though now that I'm an adult I don't deal with the same kind of insecurities when making friends that I did as a child/adolescent. This time it's more about trying to break into established groups of friends, 'cliques', who felt complete before I arrived and will feel just as complete after I leave.

When I first began attending my (now ex-)boyfriend's church I was blown away by the love and down-to-earth compassion that I witnessed people giving to each other every Sunday morning. The Bible study group I joined was similar, where the worship was sincere and the desire for growth was strongly shared by everyone. I actually felt like a brand new "baby" Christian who was learning for the first time what it meant to live in Christian community with my fellow church members, where prayer and conversation about faith was not limited to Bible studies and Sunday morning services, but was made evident in all of our interaction with other people at all times. It really changed my outlook and made me realize how much deeper my faith still had to grow so that I lived it out every minute of my life, especially with my friends and family.

Two and a half years later, after my relationship ended, I was hurting terribly but the compassion, prayers and hugs I had seen other people receive on Sunday mornings were just not there for me, even though my entire peer group knew what had happened. I needed their support so badly... Surely, I thought, someone must know that I feel like I'm dying inside.

Then I gradually realized that I was no longer being invited to hang out with the peer group that I had gotten to know over the last 2.5 years. It hurt. I felt alone. So I decided to pour myself into my church community and did the first thing that came to mind - I helped to start a young adults group that would hopefully bring people together. I was looking forward to getting to know my peers, hoping they would get to know me as a single person again - no longer as just their friend's former girlfriend, but as their friend as well. Many showed up at first, but slowly the group began to dwindle. Even so I attended as faithfully as I could, and I still adored the community atmosphere at our Sunday morning church services. I wouldn't miss them for the world. Then one night, several months later, we had planned a potluck to which just a handful of young adults showed up. I later learned that a number of them had planned private party for that same night. My heart broke. The following Sunday, and every Sunday since, I have faced a monumental struggle in finding the motivation to attend church. Yes, they show amazing love and compassion, they pray for and embrace each other at the drop of a hat, but I realized I have to be friends with them before I will be sought out, prayed for, and embraced.

I don't want to fail to mention the exceptions - and there almost always are exceptions. One friend of mine who's been there since the beginning has made an effort to go out of her way to keep in touch with me, and she knows who she is. :) If it weren't for her I know that I would have left that church a while ago already. Then there's another friend I'm still just getting to know who arrived on the scene after I was already single and beginning to think about helping to organize the young adults group. She also knows who she is, and I appreciate her kindness very much as well!! There are a couple others, two very wise and more mature church members who make a point of connecting with me on Sunday mornings too, one of whom also reads this blog. ;) Thank you!!

I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but sincere gestures to reach out mean the world to me. I'm a former pastor's kid who's had to jump from one church to the next, who's had to fight shyness and loneliness over the years, deal with insincere attention from others because of my Dad's job, put up with petty popularity games among my Christian peers, say good-bye over and over again to the few real friends I was able to make then try to reach out again at yet another new church... I think it would be understandable that 19 years of this has left me somewhat emotionally exhausted. I am an introvert, I'm not bubbly, I'm not the life of the party, I'm not the kind of magnetic personality who attracts people to me very easily, yet I love people! And I wish that there was a way to get the average Christian church community to understand how important it is to reach out and genuinely welcome newcomers into their established friendship groups. I don't want to be seen as a ministry. I want to be surrounded by folks who see me as an equal and actually care to get to know me.

So after supper last night I was lost in thought about all of this. Scott was a comfort to me, but I also wished I could have been back home to offer my hugs and support to a friend who was struggling with the same loneliness...

Dad still has his ups and downs, but with taking less Dilantin per day (that's his seizure medication), his mind is not as foggy as it was before. He has been incredibly articulate at times, and all the normal dreams and hopes that we humans experience are being expressed by Dad clearer and more often these days. He desires to get better, to pick up his former profession of pastoring, to drive a car, to have friends who treat him like a normal human being who is worthy of respect and worth the time to visit. He wants to have adventures, to use his gifts for singing and counselling, to try new things like learning to use a digital camera and an accoustic guitar, to devote time to his interest in music, model trains, history, Scripture, and so on. What he needs are just a few more friends to help him reach up out of the fog and realize some of his ambitions. The possibilities, believe it or not, are numerous and attainable...

There is always more going on here, but I'll have to post about it another day. Thanks for checking in, and remember, your comments (and phone calls!) are always welcome.

Dad and I have been on the go ever since his change in medication! I never dreamt one less pill per day would translate into driving around the countryside, meeting new people, visiting old friends, getting to know my community, learning history, and going on photography jaunts day in and day out! It's pretty striking to see the difference in Dad now that he has less Dilantin clouding his mind. Dad's energy level, ambition, curiosity and rootedness in reality have skyrocketed during this time, which has really kept me on my toes. In the last few weeks Dad and I have frequented historical sites, attended cultural events, visited local tourist sites, and taken in free classical concerts. I have to say, I've really enjoyed myself, and my only major complaint is that I am no longer able to spend my days at home working on my thesis. The cost so far has been $1500, which I've spent on tuition fees just to be enrolled in school, while getting nothing done. What I desperately, desperately need is other people to come over and spend time with Dad a few hours in the morning. I just can't express how badly I need to redeem the rest of my school year. Why is it that so many people just don't seem to realize the cost of caregiving, and how life-changing their long-term help might be to caregivers? It's all good for people to tell me to depend on God, but we all know God isn't going to erase my school debt. Nor is He going to finish my thesis for me.

I've recently connected with Christians from a church my Dad formerly pastored. They actually just survived a much greater trauma than we are currently, so they know just how meaningful it is to have friends share in the task of burden-bearing. One of them has already spent a morning with Dad, and will be returning on a regular basis in order to offer respite to my Mom and me. We are extremely grateful to God for answering our prayers through this man! And the remarkable thing about his visits is that he drives 1.5 hours one way just to get here!

Meanwhile, my Clone and I have been planning dinner parties in order to resurrect my parents' social life and opportunities for meaningful fellowship and friendship. Mom is way too busy and tired to do this herself, but she has also admitted to being painfully lonely this year. So, Clone and I came up with a plan to organize small dinners for my parents and their friends from far and wide, one family at a time. We are thoroughly enjoying our interaction with the folks who've sat at my parents' table so far, and we look forward to many fun dinner parties in the weeks and months to come! We're also grateful for our family who've invited my parents to their place in the last few weeks; this gives us much-needed rest, and gives me snippets of time for my studies.

Speaking of which, I have a research ethics request form to finish. Thanks for dropping by!

Our doctor recently ordered that my Dad's intake of Dilantin medication be reduced. Dilantin is an anti-epileptic/anti-convulsant drug which Dad has needed since his first seizure a year ago September. One of its common side-effects, which is really unfortunate for people trying to cope with dementia, is mental cloudiness and confusion. It has made life more difficult for Dad than it needed to be, and for us - his caregivers - as well.

Within the last couple weeks we heard from our doctor that Dad should be administered one less Dliantin pill per day, and both Mom and I have been surprised at the results. On the negative side, Dad experiences tremmors in his arms and legs because of the reduced level of Dilantin in his system. But the positive changes have been the most outstanding. It's his increased mental clarity that has encouraged him and us! How does this look in real life? He's able to buckle himself up in the car without incident, and is able to find the car door handle most of the time. He wasn't able to do these things before his Dilantin reduction. He is much more articulate, using more sophisticated words and expressing himself a little faster and more clearly. Since starting on Dilantin Dad has woken up and wandered throughout the apartment several times every night, always watched by Mom to make sure he didn't get lost. With the reduction in Dilantin, his nightly wandering routine has shortened; Mom says getting him back to bed is easier now. He is also more self-aware, and aware of his health situation. He is slightly more able to reason, and is also a little better at holding his own in a conversation. He isn't recovered, mind you. But any improvement is worth celebrating, especially when we feel like we've gotten a little piece of our Dad back, and Dad feels more empowered to hope.

Tonight we had my parents and other family members over for a low-key dinner. Before heading out the door, Dad turned around and said to our guests, "You know, I want to tell you something," and proceeded to share his joy and optimism at these recent improvements in his life. It's a joyful point in a painful, exhausting roller-coaster. So we cling to moments like these.

It has been one week since my Dad's twin brother departed again, after flying out from Germany for a wonderful visit with our family. But this week has been difficult for Dad... the dementia messes with his memories of the visit; sometimes it was good, other times not so good, and on one or two occasions he was unable to remember the visit at all. It has also been a tumultuous week... Dad says he wants to see his brother "Now", and doesn't seem to understand why his twin can't just come back in an instant. We've had to handle fits of anger, despair, sobbing, and depression at all hours of the day or night. So we are tired and sick.

But it seems as though Dad is beginning to settle down again, thank God! And when he settles down, he often stuns me with the most breathtakingly profound spiritual thoughts and reflections, as he did again tonight as he, Mom and I read the Bible together (Psalm 119, to be specific...)

You know, my Dad is not 'crazy'... he is definitely not well as he struggles against the dementia, but he is still live in there, overcoming the power of the disease whenever he possibly can. And we are deeply appreciative of all of our friends who don't see a 'crazy person' when they look at Dad, but see instead a hurting and lonely soul who needs to be wept with (Rom. 12) and loved (1 Cor. 12) on a regular basis:

Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality. (...) Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. - Romans 12:10-13, 15-16

But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. - 1 Corinthians 12:24b-26

[Encouragement] is the opposite of flattery, which uses words to entice and manipulate. The flatterer does not bother to discern the true character of the other person, but says whatever he must say to win the person over to his own designs. The gift of encouragement also differs from a mere pep talk that seeks to prop up the weary with positive generalizations. Instead, it sustains the person by observing his strengths, and affirming them in specific terms. -- From a Hebraic meditation

My family has been made 'weary' through the last several years of disability, unemployment, caregiving, isolation, financial struggles, emotional breakdowns, and physical and mental burnout.

Many people wonder how they can possibly encourage someone who's going through major difficulties, especially the kind that are not easy to identify with. Speaking on behalf of the 'weary', I wanted to share the quote above as a good first step in encouraging people around you who are facing major challenges.

A week ago I handed in my last assignment of the winter term. The last time I felt this kind of freedom was in August, which was the last time I had absolutely no school-related work on my plate. But this feeling will be painfully short: Spring term begins tomorrow, and I have SO much to do yet before jumping back into class. I've been wanting to attack spring cleaning around the house, indulge in the pleasure of reading anything unrelated to school, pick the fruits and vegetables I want to plant in our little community plot, evaluate the budget with my husband, sit outdoors in the warm breeze listening to the birds and processing everything that's happened over the last few months. In short, I need a vacation... but school continues, as does work. I don't have the luxury of getting away from it all quite yet.

It's great to be able to wake up each morning with a reasonable assurance that I won't come down with nausea at any point during the day. This was my life from January to March, making me a stranger to my fellow students, to colleagues at work, my church family, and even to the sun itself. It wasn't fun. But now I'm back with somewhat more spunk, even though I still feel as though I'm running out of steam. I've achieved something amazing over the last few weeks - I've kept a pretty regular schedule with Admin tasks at the website I administer, I've emerged from my cave to feel the sun on my face, I've eaten more regularly, had the privilege of planning another publication with colleagues at work, visited with some friends face-to-face again (as opposed to screen-to-face), and enjoyed our pastor's sermons *live* on Sunday morning!

What's really been therapeutic for me this last week was my brother's vacation! I needed a change of scenery so badly that I offered to pick him up in the city where he's studying, and bring him home the same day - an eight hour round trip. My husband came along for the ride last Wednesday. The sun was bright and beautiful that day. We took a short tour of the campus, grabbed a Cantonese red and green curry lunch with BBQ chicken, then loaded up the van, and headed for home. My brother's goal during this vacation was to veg, pure and simple, and I let myself fall into this new, relaxed pace in spite of my ongoing work schedule. This weekend was a highlight for us, as our good friend Pete spent the night from Saturday to Sunday. Our cousins joined us Saturday night for a BBQ on our deck, which was the first time our BBQ had been used in at least two years! On Saturday evening we also visited with some church friends and their bright, loving little puppy, and again Sunday afternoon at a local park where the sun seemed to have beckoned half the city to bring their dogs, kids, and even cats for an afternoon stroll. My bro will be home for another couple days, and on Tuesday afternoon we drive him back to university. My husband and I will help my brother move into his summer residence, we'll spend the night, and explore the city a little more before heading back to our usual schedule back home. I don't mind studying and working through summer... my only disappointment will be my family's separation during this time, as my brother will be four stinkin' hours away. *sigh* =(

Gardening has crossed my mind often this winter and spring as I've looked forward to finally growing some fruits and vegetables of my own. I won't be able to dig a garden here at the house, since my parents may be selling it this year, so my husband and I have discussed the idea of a community garden instead. Our city has many community gardens scattered here and there, some that come with a fee and others that can be used free of charge. I'm looking forward to it!

All these thoughts about gardening had me reminiscing about our neighbours in Austria who had one of the most ambitious gardens I've ever seen. I was always in awe of the massive plot beside their house, which consisted of specially-chosen flowers, fruits, and vegetables organized in long rows from the front fence all the way to the end of their back yard. Some rows were even covered with a miniature (about one foot high by one foot wide) wood-framed greenhouse which the husband probably built himself. I aspire to craft my own garden one day that lives up to the standards they set!

I wonder if our neighbour-lady missed the days when her own two boys were still kids, because she really seemed to enjoy having my brother and me around. She babysat us while our parents were out doing church work or visiting friends, and during those evenings I remember her laughing and smiling a lot when we involved her in our games and playtime. She and her husband would also take us for walks through the village or up the mountain behind our homes where they'd teach us about the plants and animals we spotted along the way. My brother and I often ran (hopped, biked, skipped, or climbed over the fence) to her and her husband's place where she would feed us lunch, let us follow her around the house while she cleaned, let us water their garden or help her pick fruit from their trees as she answered our many curious questions about whatever it was we were doing. I miss those carefree days and the lessons we learned from our kind neighbours about living close to the land and understanding the nature that surrounded us...

So, do you have any gardening memories, past or present? What about hopes of creating your own garden one day? :)

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Philippians 2:3b-4: "consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look out not [only] for his own interests, but also for the interests of others."

Sometimes it feels as though a good 90% of our family and church communities are like the partiers inside this house: Engaged, included, comfortable, lighthearted and carefree. Because of my parents' financial and health situation, however, my immediate family cannot join in the festivities. Feeling somewhat isolated and lonely, we struggle through our challenges outside as we try not to peek through the window too often for fear that our feeble excuses for their distance and separation will begin to fracture, crumble, and crush our hearts in the process. Somewhere around 10% of those in our extended family and church communities take the time visit us outside, spend time with us, and shoulder our burdens with us now and then. Some of them actually connect with us on a regular basis and contribute quite a bit to our survival and well-being. The other 90% do know that we're out here; it's just that they don't have enough of a desire to come and see how we are doing, to shoulder our burdens with us, to find a way for us to join them...

I've recently been working on a paper for school about emotional, practical, and material support that is experienced by different ethnic groups from their extended family and church communities. One article outlines the experience of the African American community:

Historically, families and churches promoted and sustained Black community life, both during and following the period of slavery. (...) Currently, both families and churches perform a number of important functions that help to address several problematic issues facing Black families and communities. Family and church networks provide informal social support to address a variety of issues, including chronic poverty (Stack, 1974), coping with the loss of a loved one, providing assistance to those who are ill and disabled (Dilworth-Anderson, 1994; Dilworth-Anderson, Williams, & Cooper, 1999), the care and supervision of grandchildren (Burton, 1992; Burton, Dilworth-Anderson, & Merriwether-de Vries, 1995; Kivett, 1993; Minkler & Roe, 1993; Strom & Strom, 1993), and specifically, caring for the children of adolescent parents (Miller, 1994; Unger & Cooley, 1992).
Source: Chatters, L. M. et al. (2002). Patters of informal support from family and church members among African Americans. Journal of Black Studies, 33 (1), p. 66-85.

There are other ethnic communities out there that are very similar to the African American one when it comes to giving and receiving support within church and family circles. Mediterranean cultures are very similar in the way family and church combine to support one another in times of need - Greek and Italian cultures come to mind as an example. The culture of the American South seems to be similar. In the same way, Amish and Old Order Mennonite communities rally around each other through church and family networks. Chinese and other Asian cultures are usually more community-oriented as well. The main strength of these societies is that they seem to rally around each other without question - not just with the odd piece of advice, but with a true dedication to help each other through, or out of, any kind of challenging situation, whatever the cost. It's the kind of support that takes time, personal resources, energy, emotion, sacrifice, and hard work.

Other areas of the world seem to be far more individualistic and isolated from one another. Northern Europe as well as much of Canada and the northern US, for instance, have always struck me as colder places, not in terms of temperature, but in terms of extended families' and church members' relationships with one another. There's some kind of overzealous, self-destructive need for privacy, the kind that shields others out in times of distress, whether you're on the potential giving- or receiving-end of the needed help.

I've gone through some major moments of pain in the past, during which time I felt as though I was terribly alone, whether I was hanging out with my extended family or sitting in church on a Sunday morning. I have to admit that on more than one occasion I've considered submerging myself in one of the 'warmer' cultures that I've often envied. It isn't that I just want to feel like I'm surrounded by open, compassionate people who are willing to go the second mile with me; I want to learn how to take up that lifestyle myself as well. I want to see what it looks like to do away with timidity and self-indulgence, to live a lifestyle of giving, caring, and always 'being there' for people in my church and family community.

One European-heritage woman shared about the close connections in her family. An extended family member had a permanent disability, and - without thinking twice - she offered to care for this family member when the current caretakers became too old and weak for the task themselves. Everybody in her family does things like this for each other, she said, and she has felt shocked to learn of other families aren't nearly as close as hers.

When I heard her story I couldn't help but think of my Dad. What if something were to happen to Mom, my husband, my brother, or to me... I wish I could say with confidence that our church and extended family networks would be just as willing to care for my Dad the way the woman above is willing to care for her cousin. But I can't. A handful would try to help, definitely, but the majority would make sure they put enough distance between themselves and my family's need in order to protect their lifestyle from unnecessary disruption.

Mom's health is fragile, always has been, but she's caring for Dad 24/7 and the circles under her eyes are sinking deeper every day. The roller-coaster of stress, anxiety, restless nights, and depression that we all go through here is more than enough proof that we can't do this on our own. Yet for the most part we are doing this on our own. To be sure, there is certainly a solid handful of people (that committed 10%) who make their love and concern known to us in ways that make a huge difference - but in the larger context of our church and extended family networks the silence from everybody else is deafening. ...Sadly we do not come from a background like the African Americans, the Mediterraneans, the Amish/Old Order Mennonites, or the Asians.

What we could really use is people - family, church members, anybody - to come over, help us cook and clean, and encourage to Mom get to bed on time. We need people to sit down with Dad to help him learn the simple things that dementia has wiped from his mind, such as how to open and use his email account (because that's something Mom ends up spending several hours on each week), how to work the VCR, or how to otherwise re-sharpen his observational and memorizing skills. We could use friends to watch movies with us, visit with us, call us more often to ask how we're doing, help us all laugh more often, help us get a break from the situation, and let us know that we don't need to feel isolated anymore. We could also use financial help so that we don't sink further into debt while we wait for Dad's pension disability application to be approved, and while we wait for my husband to receive his open work permit so that I can finish school and get a real job as soon as possible.

What we could really use is a more authentic relationship with our church and family, the kind that doesn't gloss over or shy away from the ugliness and despair that life sometimes throws at us, the kind that doesn't bury its head in the sand, doesn't put on airs or wear a mask, but a real kind of relationship that isn't afraid to roll up its sleeves and put a hand to this plough that is too difficult for us to push on our own.

Through several discussions with friends and family I've come to discover another way in which the TCK profile has surfaced yet again in the way I deal with life, or more to the point in the way I deal with change. Change is one of the few constants in a TCK's life, and my experience was no different. My geographical location has changed about 12 times in 28 years. Our proximity to my extended family has changed from being across an ocean from them to being just down the street. I have attended 13 schools, and changed church 'membership' 11 times (not to mention the countless churches I have visited through the years). I made many friends and lost most of them again along the way. Losing my Austrian friends at the age of 10 stripped me of a huge support system, making me feel extremely vulnerable and alone in my new Canadian neighborhood.

Losing one group of friends after another in each successive move was heart-wrenching (except for the rare case in which my 'friends' turned out not to be real friends after all and kind of dropped me when they found someone 'cooler' to hang out with...). So how on earth does a vulnerable child with struggling self-confidence deal with repeated losses such as these?

You learn to let go, and let go ASAP.

I was just telling my cousin last night that every time I had to say good-bye to my friends, my house, my school, church, and neighborhood I felt like they immediately became shadows of my past: Old and passing worlds that were preserved like time capsules in my mind. That's still all they are to me now... slowly fading shadows of both happy and difficult memories. And the only world I've ever really wanted to return to was Austria... that place somehow managed to stamp its permanence onto my heart forever.

What about people? If past worlds become shadows do passing friendships become as ghosts? Well... pretty much. That is, unless some small seed of loyalty compels them to do the work required to maintain a friendship despite geographical distance. Even in the age of the internet most people do not walk down that road with me.

As I mentioned in a previous post, friendships mean the world to me. Having lost so many I know just how valuable they are and so I develop a deep, unwavering loyalty to them. And when the time comes (as it so often does) that we must say good-bye I've learned to grieve as deeply and quickly as possible, release the friendship to join the other shadows of my past, and move on. Given the number of good-byes in a typical TCK's life it's only natural that one would want to move on quickly and efficiently.

What benefits has this survival technique given to many TCKs? We can adapt to change in a flash. Personally, I know how to appreciate the people who are in my life at the moment, and I know how to move on when they're gone. I make the most of my friendships when they're around, and I also know how to thrive when I'm alone. I'm glad when people are in my life, but I'm also not surprised when they disappear. That said, I also never forget the faces of those who showed kindness and loyalty to me while they were in my life, and they remain in my heart forever.

On a whole, these TCK good-byes affect my views of the past, present, and future. I've found myself chasing my past... my childhood in Austria, wanting to return to that place that was so fun, safe, and care-free. I find myself living in the moment, appreciating the people, the places, and all the little things that may never cross my path again. And when I think of the future I see the whole world open to me, I see countless faces yet to meet and countless places yet to live. And with simultaneous grief and excitement I know there will yet be countless good-byes.

Last night I hungrily watched and waited as Scott worked over the gas stove putting the finishing touches on our dinner as it sizzled in the wok. It was a beef stir fry with different spices and veggies, including bamboo, fresh ginger, sweet soy sauce, Indonesian dried hot peppers, and his favourite secret ingredient which I am not at liberty to disclose. Served over jasmine rice it was absolutely fabulous, and I enjoyed every last bit of it with my very own set of brand new re-usable chopsticks.

But during supper I let my mind wander to news I had received from home, and I had to fight the tears. It reminded me of an ongoing struggle that I've had ever since my family left Austria to return to Canada, which is namely the struggle to make lasting friendships with our peers at church. Sometimes we weren't in one place long enough to really make meaningful connections. Other times my brother and I were at the age where our peers were more concerned with popularity than reaching out to a couple pastor's kids. We've always been somewhat reserved, tired of changing church families every few years, sick of the politics and insincerity we've witnessed, and hesitant to reach out again and again only to be laughed at, or ignored, or simply tolerated by our peers.

I was reminded of a similar struggle I have felt in my current church, though now that I'm an adult I don't deal with the same kind of insecurities when making friends that I did as a child/adolescent. This time it's more about trying to break into established groups of friends, 'cliques', who felt complete before I arrived and will feel just as complete after I leave.

When I first began attending my (now ex-)boyfriend's church I was blown away by the love and down-to-earth compassion that I witnessed people giving to each other every Sunday morning. The Bible study group I joined was similar, where the worship was sincere and the desire for growth was strongly shared by everyone. I actually felt like a brand new "baby" Christian who was learning for the first time what it meant to live in Christian community with my fellow church members, where prayer and conversation about faith was not limited to Bible studies and Sunday morning services, but was made evident in all of our interaction with other people at all times. It really changed my outlook and made me realize how much deeper my faith still had to grow so that I lived it out every minute of my life, especially with my friends and family.

Two and a half years later, after my relationship ended, I was hurting terribly but the compassion, prayers and hugs I had seen other people receive on Sunday mornings were just not there for me, even though my entire peer group knew what had happened. I needed their support so badly... Surely, I thought, someone must know that I feel like I'm dying inside.

Then I gradually realized that I was no longer being invited to hang out with the peer group that I had gotten to know over the last 2.5 years. It hurt. I felt alone. So I decided to pour myself into my church community and did the first thing that came to mind - I helped to start a young adults group that would hopefully bring people together. I was looking forward to getting to know my peers, hoping they would get to know me as a single person again - no longer as just their friend's former girlfriend, but as their friend as well. Many showed up at first, but slowly the group began to dwindle. Even so I attended as faithfully as I could, and I still adored the community atmosphere at our Sunday morning church services. I wouldn't miss them for the world. Then one night, several months later, we had planned a potluck to which just a handful of young adults showed up. I later learned that a number of them had planned private party for that same night. My heart broke. The following Sunday, and every Sunday since, I have faced a monumental struggle in finding the motivation to attend church. Yes, they show amazing love and compassion, they pray for and embrace each other at the drop of a hat, but I realized I have to be friends with them before I will be sought out, prayed for, and embraced.

I don't want to fail to mention the exceptions - and there almost always are exceptions. One friend of mine who's been there since the beginning has made an effort to go out of her way to keep in touch with me, and she knows who she is. :) If it weren't for her I know that I would have left that church a while ago already. Then there's another friend I'm still just getting to know who arrived on the scene after I was already single and beginning to think about helping to organize the young adults group. She also knows who she is, and I appreciate her kindness very much as well!! There are a couple others, two very wise and more mature church members who make a point of connecting with me on Sunday mornings too, one of whom also reads this blog. ;) Thank you!!

I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but sincere gestures to reach out mean the world to me. I'm a former pastor's kid who's had to jump from one church to the next, who's had to fight shyness and loneliness over the years, deal with insincere attention from others because of my Dad's job, put up with petty popularity games among my Christian peers, say good-bye over and over again to the few real friends I was able to make then try to reach out again at yet another new church... I think it would be understandable that 19 years of this has left me somewhat emotionally exhausted. I am an introvert, I'm not bubbly, I'm not the life of the party, I'm not the kind of magnetic personality who attracts people to me very easily, yet I love people! And I wish that there was a way to get the average Christian church community to understand how important it is to reach out and genuinely welcome newcomers into their established friendship groups. I don't want to be seen as a ministry. I want to be surrounded by folks who see me as an equal and actually care to get to know me.

So after supper last night I was lost in thought about all of this. Scott was a comfort to me, but I also wished I could have been back home to offer my hugs and support to a friend who was struggling with the same loneliness...