When my dad passed away in 2015, I painted the picture above as part of my grieving process. It’s called The Colors Of My Father’s Heart. My dad was a patriotic American who loved Brazil just as much, but more than anything he loved the Lord, and that’s what this picture portrays for me.
Painting by Lori Kingston, a missionary kid from Brazil who is now living in central New York.
You’re Invited, You Know
Look, look at the rain pounding
into the dust outside, doesn’t it
sound like home? Like tin roofs
and shouting and laughter?
You would remember these
things, if you were here, and so
I say them to the empty space all around
me, to the memory of your presence.
We were made of different stuff, you and I.
I am stardust, never content with small and you
are the oak trees strong and steady, so
you know, I’ll visit you again someday
but I won’t stay. Will you forgive me for that?
Life is supposed to be built of love
but you and I have made it out of
minutes in the middle of years, out
of snapshot memories faded at the edges.
Look, look at this place and
how empty it is without you.
The world is big but our hearts are small
and you’re invited, you know. To come.
By Ghanaperu
Other poems by Ghanaperu
To My New Friends
Eve of Bittersweet
Created after over 5000km of travelling in February 2016. Sometimes one does feel “so far from home”. And sometimes one wonders where “home” even is.
“This is called the MK Patriot. I made it because many times I feel torn between supporting all the countries I love. I am an MK (missionary kid). I grew up in Panama and Paraguay, and my parents are from the USA and Canada.”
Painting by Joshua Case
Under country, over country,
Never committed and always free,
But that’s freedom by plane,
And not freedom of pain.
That pain hides in the greetings that are filled with goodbyes,
Our hello is rather uninviting, we realize.
But it’s a result of a normal routine
Of always having to leave as the in-between.
Our looks deceive –
We are not who you believe.
We know both more thank you think,
And less than you think.
Yellow in the sea of Blue,
In the sea of Yellow, we are Blue.
Holding the knowledge of a Green
We are mistaken as pretentious, as causing a scene.
We return home
To absorb the culture of home,
But Painters admire each color alone,
For Black absorbs all, yet has no culture of its own.
Yet there’s beauty in Green!
It’s not a fault to be in-between.
But Painters are stubborn,
Holding the old standard of one, they just don’t learn
That Green is both – it’s two –
Not yellow, not blue.
Is that not so simple?
Yet it remains incomprehensible.
You may know us as Global Citizens;
We carry the global burdens.
The dark eye bags remain as battle scars of jet-lag,
Telling of the loss and grief from flag to flag.
Some of us live on the prayer cards on your fridge,
Between you and the 3rd world, we’re the bridge.
Existing as the good of the world in your sight,
It is a fallacy we must rewrite.
If we didn’t bring our Sunday’s best
To visit your church to impress,
Perhaps you would be disillusioned, and the truth be known
Of the dirt we bear, of the sin we own.
The truth is that we are scruffy
With the odor of our homes stuck to our shirts, a smell that is friendly,
Familiar because it is foreign,
Foreign to any other person.
If our real closet was opened, it would burst.
Culottes falling first,
Hand-me-downs intertwined,
Revealing our fashion – only 10 years behind!
The skin of a chameleon
Has granted us the chance of one in a million
To adapt, give, and share all before noon,
And before we’re gone, for our goodbyes come all too soon.
by Rachel Hudson
https://communicatingacrossboundariesblog.com/
“Marilyn R. Gardner is an adult third culture kid who grew up Pakistan and then lived as an adult in Pakistan and Egypt. From Boston to Pakistan and many points in between, she blogs about life, faith, travel, third culture kid peculiarities, cross-cultural communication, Pakistan, the Middle East and more. With a love of people, books, film, and the world, she invites others to join in the conversation.
Marilyn birthed 5 kids on 3 continents, and went on to raise them in Pakistan and Egypt before moving to the United States. She currently lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, 15 minutes from the international terminal where she flies to the Middle East & Pakistan as often as possible.”
from the blog DjboutiJones, written by Rachel Pieh Jones
by Grady Toland
Well Momma and Daddy were missionaries
took us to places sort of strange and scary
(like the United States)
but Daddy said it was all necessary
and Daddy never lies.
(except when he was in front of a whole group of people at a church…)We drove a million miles in a rusty van
from the great white North to the southern lands
I lost my mittens so my Momma put socks on my hands
so cold I thought I’d die.But I’m an MK;
I wouldn’t trade it.
Through everything that came
we always made it.
Yes, I’m an MK;
I’m glad it’s true.
And you can tell your folks you want to be an MK too.Well I was raised in the jungles of the Amazon
and I’ve driven in Europe on the Autobahn
and I’ve been up and down the alleys of old Hong Kong
and I’ve seen the snow in Nome.I’ve seen snakes eat people and people eat snakes
I’ve even seen people eat monkey steaks
but the strangest things of all are back in the States,
in the place my folks call home.‘Cause I’m an MK;
I wouldn’t trade it.
If there’s any better life
I couldn’t name it.
Yes, I’m an MK;
I’m glad it’s true.
And you can tell your folks you want to be an MK too.It doesn’t matter that I never owned a new car,
I never did miss being a football star
I’ve been living in a world that’s bigger by far
than most folks ever know.Well I can parle French and hable Espanol,
you would be surprised at the various things that I know
and there’s not a place in the world that I would not go
if the Lord has sent me there.‘Cause I’m an MK;
I wouldn’t trade it.
If there’s any better life
I couldn’t name it.
Yes, I’m an MK;
I’m glad it’s true.
And you can tell your folks you want to be an MK too.
by Bethany Kennedy
Is it true?
You can’t answer the question “where are you from?”
You speak two languages but can’t spell either one
You have a passport but no driver’s license
And now you’re wondering how that last one was wrong
You’re an MK, this is your life
It’s not easy, but it’s all right
In fact it’s better and you
Wouldn’t trade it for anything
MKs are a race without color, without culture.
The only thing we have in common is that
we have nothing in common at all.
Is it true?
Your life story includes “then we went to” at least five times
Complete strangers say they knew you when you were “this tall”
National Geographic only makes you homesick
But you don’t really know where home is at all.You’re an MK, this is your life
It’s not easy, but it’s all right
In fact it’s better and you
Wouldn’t trade it for anythingMKs are a race without color, without culture.
The only thing we have in common is that
we have nothing in common at all.Is it true?
All you want for Christmas is a box of pop tarts
You know what REAL coffee tastes like and it’s not like Starbucks
Your parent’s siblings are like strangers to you but
You have fifty or sixty aunts and uncles who love you
Is it true?
You know the difference between 110 and 220 volts
You spent a fifth of your life in an airport
You go to a church you’ve never been in before
And you see your picture on the bulletin board.You’re an MK, this is your life
It’s not easy, but it’s all right
In fact it’s better and you
Wouldn’t trade it for anythingMKs are a race without color, without culture.
The only thing we have in common is that
we have nothing in common at all.
“Families in Global Transition is a welcoming forum for globally mobile individuals, families, and those working with them. We promote cross-sector connections for sharing research and developing best practices that support the growth, success and well-being of people crossing cultures around the world.”
