Tuesday, August 26, 2014

On Leaving the Country.




By Marcia Lee Laycock

I was called an ex-patriot.  The phrase still makes my back hump like a cat's, in belligerent defence. The word screams of desertion, a pointing finger, whispers behind the back, a negativity that makes people stare. It makes me want to scream, "No!" I was leaving the country, but not "ex-ing" it! The thought of being called an "ex" brought out a zealous nationalism I didn’t realize I had. 
I was determined not to leave with negative thoughts of this country, though some  wondered at the time if there would be a Canada, as we know it, when I returned. I didn't spout criticisms from afar, nor shout expletives across the ocean. I was and am grateful for my nationality, for a home often rated " one of the best." I did not leave because of what I didn't like, but because it was time for a broader view, time to see from a different perspective, through a lens opened to panorama. It was time to live beyond, with the hope that when I returned the enrichment of the experience would return with me to enrich others.
They told me it would be "a wonderful experience" and they were right, but wonderful experiences don't come cheap. They cost. This one cost that comfortable Canadian feeling of knowing the seasons follow one on another, the trees always turn to gold, the rolling Alberta fields always ripen into harvest, there is always snow for Christmas and the garbage is always collected Thursday mornings. Such commonplace certainties were no more. They were replaced by a tropical sun, from which I had to hide, by rain that was not gentle, by a land that quivered with earthquakes every other day, by fly-ridden markets instead of IGA. 
These bits of foreign reality were, to some extent, anticipated. Those I did not expect were those which stirred me most profoundly - facing my own prejudices and sometimes a callousness I didn't think I had, and dealing with the callousness and prejudice of others. Truth often becomes glaringly obvious, once all that is familiar has been left behind. It was hard to anticipate, let alone welcome, such possibilities. But I prayed for the grace to receive them and found it was there, as well as the wisdom to learn from them.
They told me I would never be the same, and again, they were right. I was changed by living in a strange and foreign land. My view of myself, of Canada, of the world, and even of my God, did not remain the same, but I was determined, and I did not, live as an "ex-patriot." 
I will always carry with me the stamp of the place from whence I came and I will sing my country's praises - albeit with a polite Canadian voice.  And perhaps, after being away, the voice has become just a bit more zealous.
****

Marcia Lee Laycock writes from central Alberta Canada where she is a pastor's wife and mother of three adult daughters. She was the winner of The Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One Smooth Stone. Her second novel, A Tumbled Stone was recently short listed in the contemporary fiction category of The Word Awards. Marcia also has two devotional books in print. Her work has been endorsed by Sigmund Brouwer, Janette Oke, Phil Callaway and Mark Buchanan. 






Abundant Rain, an ebook devotional for writers can be downloaded here

Visit Marcia’s Website






8 comments:

  1. Living in a country that's not our own for a while does alter our perspective. It especially helps us realize that God doesn't play favorites. He loves people of all nationalities. Knowing that fact helps me love them also.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So true, Karen. It's an experience everyone should have. :)

      Delete
  2. Marcia, I can totally relate to your post. We left South Africa to live in Ireland in 2000. We were leaving and never coming back. God had other plans and 18 months later we returned, far wiser and able to appreciate the good things in our country and not focus on the bad. Living overseas, I became so patriotic to my country, South Africa. I think I cried every day for the first six months in Ireland - it truly was a time of grieving. Yet, I came to learn that it wasn't the country we had immigrated to, it was the immigration process itself, the grieving for what you've left behind. We visited Australia some years later, and I saw South African women there going through the same emotions that I had when we lived in Ireland.
    As hard as it was to give up everything and leave my family, my country, I will never regret what the experience taught us.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh yes, I can relate to that too, Marion. And then there's the "re-entry" when you return to your home country - another kind of grieving. :)m

      Delete
  3. Lovely post, Marcia. I'd love to read a post on your experiences of when you "arrived" in your new country.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks Ian. I was just thinking that would be a good idea. :) Great minds ...

      Delete
  4. Lovely post, Marcia. Ironic for me to be reading it the evening before weleave Calgary to head south again.
    (Donna on Stan's computer)

    ReplyDelete
  5. Great post, Marcia. Thanks for voicing your thoughts.

    ReplyDelete