Born to Be a Nomad

April 30, 1945 

               Today I was born to be a nomad. Well, today I was born—left one world and place and came to another. Different food, different bed. New sounds, sights, smells, tastes and touches. The only thing the same is my mother’s calming voice and the city noises of Chicago, Illinois.

                Today a madman died, one who killed children. Adolf Hitler was not a nomad—simply mad, at the world, at himself. And he had no calming voice. But he did leave one world behind and entered another, so I guess he ended up a nomad. Yet today the only voices he hears are the millions of those he murdered.

                So what exactly is a nomad? It’s someone on a journey, moving from place to place, looking for their next home, always seeking a country and place to call their own. A nomad’s home has no boundaries or walls, only people to love. So it’s important if you’re a nomad to have good strong relationships. That’s something a nomad looks for…always.

                Long ago a man named Abraham was a nomad. He didn’t know where he was going. First he traveled with his dad to a place called Haran and stayed their til his dad died. Then, because God told him to, he picked up all that he owned and kept on moving, over and over again. He would eventually settle in a place later called Canaan. But Canaan didn’t even exist when Abraham was moving over and over. The world then had no boundaries. Just people traveling from place to place, living and settling in places they could name and call their own.

                OK, so  there’s Hitler, Abraham and me—all nomads in different ways. Read on  to see if you can figure out the end of my nomadic journey, which will mirror Abraham’s more than Hitler’s. You can follow by email when you subscribe at the right.

A Memory of a Memory

I remember a picture. Rather I remember self-awareness, a need to remember. I was being held by my grandma, outside an apartment building or something similar and was with my brother and grandpa. In my memory, everything is pink. I haven’t yet found that pink picture, but the memory, the conscious thought that I should freeze this moment in my mind remains. I must have been a few years old, at least. It was at a time when we were near my grandparents in California. I had spent the first few years of my life in Nepal, of which I have little memory. I know we lived in a village and I ate rice and daal every day and onions straight from the garden. I played with my big brother, Jonathan and the village kids. My parents moved to Nepal when my brother was 8? months and I was my mom says more than a glimmer but not yet in physical existence yet. I guess I’ve always been a bit sentimental as I have another memory of missing my friends from Nepal when I was all of 4 years old or so and living in Mexico. Particularly I remember missing a girl named Sabine (pic) who is now an author of her experiences in New Guinea after they left Nepal, also a movie now. I have read her book (translated from German)

Marriage is Just Two Imperfect People Who Refuse to Give Up on Each Other

I heard a wise person once say that a marriage is just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other. This was true then and it is still true today as Bill and I learn to more fully love each other deeply.

So how does this happen? Mostly through hard times and conflicts. It was hardest in our early years. While in Mexico I wrote that "It seems Bill and I learn oneness through conflict. It's a hard time right now."

Several months later, we had our lost suitcase on a flight from Mexico City to Oklahoma, and Bill and I weren't agreeing on how to handle it. I wrote, "Yesterday Bill and I had the worst argument in our married life, out at the airport trying to settle concerning the lost suitcase. What the Lord seems to be doing is giving us a crash course in revealing basic attitudes and motives that don't line up with His. Dow says this is the year for personal holiness. Guess this is our initiation."

I was grateful for Bill's friendship with our pastor Dow, but I was also adjusting to this friendship. Bill had never had a close friend before so this was different. They spent a lot of time discussing life and relationships and I often felt left out. But I decided not to pass judgment, but to wait and see how things actually worked out. As I waited (not always easy to do), I found that Dow's friendship with Bill was a very good thing. As I watched Bill's attitudes and motives change toward me, the kids and others, I became increasingly grateful for the gift that Dow was to us.

In the process of being changed, we both learned new ways of relating to each other and the kids. I wrote that "it felt like a “destruction of my kingdom, so His can be built.” I still had a lot of pride that my way was better, but like Aslan had to do with Eustace in Narnia (Voyage of the Dawn Treader), he had to show me my selfishness and peal off many layers, one at a time, so that I could be free.

Bill and I were both having layers peeled off, still learning how to walk together with one mind and heart. We were particularly vulnerable with our children. We often disagreed about how to help our kids, especially Jonathan. Jenny watched all this carefully and seemed to learn how to navigate the parental signs. I wish we could have learned as quickly as she did.

Proverbs 31 says, “An excellent wife, who can find? For her worth is far above jewels……She’s always doing him good and not evil all the days of her life." I wanted to be that kind of wife, but struggled as we learned and grew. You've read how my heart is tied to Nepal and this theme keeps coming back time and again. I read in Acts 1:7 that “It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father has put in His own power.” As I wondered about our future, I learned that making home wherever we were was what I needed to do--not keep hoping for a return to Nepal. This is when contentment began to flow and our marriage became stronger..

Over the years, I think the biggest thing I've learned (and usually practice now), is this. It is better to NOT be right than to NOT be in harmony with your husband. As we've aged we tend to remember things differently, and we still have differences of opinion and always will. But I've found it's better to not argue about what "I know is right." Having a loving relationship means recognizing that differences are OK and I'm not always right. Building each other up always wins over disagreeing.

One other thing I've learned: Jesus always sought the success and fulfillment of His Father. Marriage is like that too--learning to seek the success and fulfillment of each other. As we've both laid down our lives for each other, our love has grown.

So the journey goes on and on and I am grateful to say that over the years we both have changed--probably Bill the most. He lays down his life for me every day. How grateful to God I am for this man who loves me and follows Jesus deeply.