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MK means Missionary Kid

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Why are we called Missionary Kids?  Are we supposed to play a part in our parent's ministry?  I mean, some of us didn't exactly sign up to go to the mission field...  
Am I, as a parent, required to combine my family and ministry?  What if my child doesn't want be involved?  I don't want to ruin their childhood by coercing them into missions...
Kids in missions.   The most reoccurring dilemma on the mission field.   What do we do with them?
You know what?  No one has an answer.  There's no cookie cutter kid; no predicted reaction; no singular situation on the mission field.  That's why there's no "How Your Child Will Adjust to Missions" handbook sitting on the library shelf.  For example: My father and his two brothers were MKs in Papua New Guinea.  Guess what?  All three of them became missionaries when they grew up.  On the flipside, I've met MKs that have told me, in these exact words:
 I am never going to be a missionary.   I will never p…

Too Good at Goodbyes

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I don't remember much of the first move I had.  I was four.  I mean, there were those cool moving sidewalks (escalators), I got to watch a lot of movies on my own little screen in the seat, and I guess it was a lot hotter when we got off the magic flying contraption.  But hey, it was all good.



As I got older, I started putting two and two together.  I developed a dislike for the "drop-off" points at the airports, you know, right before you enter the building.  I had a hatred of that little spot right outside the security checkpoint.  Those were the "good-bye" spots to a ten year old.  Those were the spots that Mimi and Papa couldn't pass, those were the places where the whole family stayed for the next five minutes, waving sadly.  To me, those were the boundary lines between my two worlds.  
I remember when my sister and I travelled down to Missouri one last time before we headed back to South Africa.  My grandfather walked us to the boarding gate and he cou…

My New Chapter

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Hey,

So, these few weeks (months) have been a whirlwind.  Packing, saying goodbye, exams, more packing, etc... I'll admit, these months have been some of the hardest ones I've had in a very, very long time.














We've moved continents (again), and are now in Lisbon, Portugal.  Yes, it's freezing.  And yes, I do know it's summer. I am currently in fluffy slippers I bought yesterday (which is like the coolest thing ever cause I haven't worn slippers in years) and wrapped in a big, fuzzy blanket (which I also bought yesterday).

I could make this a really sad post about how much moving hurts, what it does to your emotional state and grieving process for years to come and how it affects your relationships for the rest of your life...but I won't.  Partly for you, and partly because I don't think I could handle that right now.  So instead, I'm going to tell you all the things that have me excited (which is kind of a long list, since we went from 3rd world to 1…

My Lost Identity

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Mambo!  I am so sorry, I haven't posted something in what feels like forever!  We are back in Tanzania, busy with absolutely everything under the sun, from meetings and exams ICSA football tournaments and basketball games with rival schools.

This next post is something that is super hard for me, because there is so much that could be said on this topic, and not enough space!  I'll guess I'll go ahead and jump right into it.
As the name implies, Third Culture Kids do not belong to one single culture or country that they call home.  They just have a jumble of multiple cultures and selective traits, characteristics and outlooks from each one. The official definition of TCKs (according to Wikipedia, of course) is:
Children raised in a culture other than their parents' (or the culture of the country given on the child's passport, where they are legally considered native) for a significant part of their early development years. 

For example, I lived in America for 4 yea…