My daughter Kristin has her own blog/newsletter, and I love her latest entry. It concerns the challenges of growing up in another culture and the adjustment difficulties in coming “home” to the US. Kristin, born in Bolivia, was 16 when we returned to the US.
She writes of a time when she and
her college-roommate went on a double-date. She was paired with the young man
who would one day be her husband. The foursome were all dressed up and heading
for an elegant restaurant, a new experience for Kristin and something out of
her comfort zone.
In situations like this, she had
learned to watch and take her cues from her companions, cues such as which of
the many forks and spoons to use when. Even so she was a bit nervous.
When they were finally ready to
order, Kristin writes that the waitress “targeted” her first. To her relief she
gave her order without a hitch. But then the waitress asked her, “Soup or
salad?” Not used to that question, she answered simply, “No, thank you.”
But the waitress asked again, a
little impatiently, “Soup or salad?”
Kristin repeated her answer that
she really didn’t want any.
For a third time, “Soup or salad”?
Kristin, realizing that the
waitress wasn’t going to let this go, said, “If I have to eat salad, can you at
least make it a mini?”
In Bolivia Kristin had learned
from us never to eat salad in a restaurant as we couldn’t be sure the lettuce
was prepared in clean water. The danger of infection was high. But soup, on the
other hand, is a Bolivian specialty. We all love Bolivian soup.
So Kristin was glad to order soup.
In retrospect she recognized this experience as a conflict between her two
cultures. She’s had many. In her blog, she referred to these experiences as
“super-salad moments.” I like that phrase.
I have my own super-salad
moments. I belong to two planets
simultaneously. The planet of Old and the planet of Young. On the outside I live in the culture of Old;
seen as a color Old is yellow, not a vibrant yellow, but somewhat faded. On the
other hand, I’m still Young on the inside, a lovely lively blue. Sometimes the
two don’t get along. Sometimes they clash, like when I’m walking down the
sidewalk, feeling chipper, and then see my reflection in a store window. It
takes a second for me to realize that that white-haired lady with the slight
stoop is me. Oh no!
Of course, I don’t always feel
young and vital on the inside, especially if I’m struggling with illness. At
the same time, I still have my imagination, creativity, and humor. I still
worship and pray and marvel at beauty. I still cherish friendship and love a
good conversation. I’m still young, in spite of it all.
The outside old (yellow) and the
inside young (blue) don’t always get along—unless they blend and become green. Green
is a great color.
Psalm 92 speaks of the one who follows God: “They will still bear fruit in old age; they will stay fresh and green.” Paul tells us that, “Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16). That’s the blending of the old and the young. The challenge is accepting the limitations of growing older, yet still experiencing that inner renewal as a present (and future) reality.
It’s not easy.
But it’s good.
Note: If you want to read Kristin’s original blog, go to her
webpage (kristingault.com), then click on the blog section.
