Transition

A Few of My Favorite Things {2022}

/ trotters41 / 2 Comments

by Elizabeth

I haven’t published a Favorite Things post for over two years – not since the pandemic began – and I wasn’t sure exactly how to begin them again. But there were all these little things I wanted to talk about. Things that might seem superficial or insignificant but that help me enjoy life more, and those things are important.

There’s so much heaviness in the world right now; there has been for quite some time. I’ve always tended to talk about big, heavy things, but I don’t know how to talk about some of these things. I want to acknowledge the distressing things going on in the world right now (the war in Ukraine, the gun violence in the States, the difficult economy, the unpredictability of the pandemic, the continuing political divisions in my country). They are big, and they are important, and they weigh on me – as I’m sure they weigh on you.

But while we can’t ignore the heaviness, I also don’t want to ignore the little joys in life. So today I’m going to inject a little lightness into this blog with some of the things that I’ve been enjoying in my life over the past year or so. Who knows? Maybe this post will be the thing that will inspire me write again more frequently.

SKIN CARE AND HAIR CARE

Differen (adapalene) gel. For years I’ve been using 2% salicylic acid to care for my oily, acne-prone skin. Then I read about differin gel, which is the only over-the-counter FDA-approved prescription strength retinoid. Retinoids are a form of topical Vitamin A that are good for both acne and signs of aging. Differin is designed more for anti-acne purposes than anti-aging purposes, but it still does double duty. Of course, I have responsibly paired the adapalene with a good sunscreen to protect from further sun damage and a good nighttime moisturizer to counteract the drying effects of the retinoid. (These are both from Cerave and are both designed for the oily skin that I have.)

Highlights. I walked into a salon in February searching for myself. That’s a pretty big statement, so let me unpack it. The whole time I was in Cambodia, I didn’t do much with my hair. I kept it long and put it in braids, buns, or ponytails. The heat made it necessary to keep hair off your neck (except maybe once a year in December), and the constantly blowing fans that were supposed to reduce the effects of that heat made it necessary to keep hair off your face, too. Result: boring hairstyles. Additionally, over the decade that I lived in Cambodia, my hair turned from a lighter blonde to what my stylist would call a “dark blonde.” (In my mind, it was sooo dark, but she assured me it really wasn’t.)

So I walked into the salon looking for something different, something new – or was I really looking for something old? I didn’t know what the lighter color and shorter length was going to look like or feel like, but when my stylist turned me around to look at the back of my hair in the mirror, I nearly cried. I looked like the me I had always known. (30+ years is a long time to stay naturally blonde.) I did the highlights for me, but it turned out that my husband loved them too. Score one for Team Trotter.

Purple shampoo. Purple shampoo counteracts the brassiness/yellowness of blonde highlights and keeps them looking fresh. I use this about once a week, and it makes me happy.

Lather/Rinse/Repeat. The bleach used for blonde highlights can damage your hair, and I did notice more dryness and brittleness after getting the highlights. Then I started double conditioning, and everything is soft again. I don’t know why this works or why one application of conditioner isn’t enough. I only know that this does work.

Heatless curls. This solves two problems: damage from heating tools and a lack of time (or lack of commitment to the time it would take) to style my hair. I just sleep in a curling ribbon (robe-curl-style), and in the morning I take it out. Voila! I have curls. They loosen up throughout the day and become waves, but I’m happy with both. I do this once or twice a week and definitely on Sundays!

Silk pillowcase. I bought one of these to protect my skin and hair from excess tugging and pulling. At first I didn’t notice that much of a difference until one night when I had to sleep without the silk one. Ouch! Everything hurt. These are inexpensive and are a nice way to pamper yourself.

HEALTH AND FITNESS

Tempeh. I hadn’t tried tempeh because I just couldn’t get over the mental hurdle of fermented soybeans. (And also I had seen some photos of it, ew.) But since it’s such a healthy, high-protein alternative to meat, and since my family had gotten tired of tofu scramble, I needed some new recipes. And you know what? Tempeh is delicious, filling, and easy. We do Tempeh Bolognese, Tempeh Tacos, and Sweet and Sour Tempeh (which tastes almost like my Cambodian helper’s Sweet and Sour dish).

Roastaroma tea. I go through phases of really liking this tea and then not craving it at all. I’m currently in a craving stage. It’s bitter, like dark chocolate (I go for 90% these days, by the way), and it’s what made me realize that I actually like bitter. I think it’s one of the flavors God made us to enjoy, but our modern packaged food culture, with all its salt, sugar, and unhealthy fats, has dulled our appreciation for its unique flavor.

I also go in for Chai Green Tea from time to time, which gives the health benefits of green tea without the flavor of plain green tea, which for some reason I don’t care for. My favorite flavors are still probably peppermint and spearmint (I prefer spearmint, but it’s harder to find).

Daily walk. I’ve realized that life in Joplin, MO, as a homeschool educator and freelance editor is not as naturally active as my life in Phnom Penh, where I climbed endless sets of staircases and walked the streets frequently. So about a year ago I added a short one-mile walk to my day (Leslie Sansone anyone??). I go through phases where I get busy and forget, but I always feel better on the weeks when I consistently take a one-mile walk in the afternoon, before doing a harder workout after supper.

Step workouts/heavier weights. About the time I realized I needed more activity in my life, I also realized I needed to level up my exercise regime. I already had a step with risers, and I bought an extra set of risers to increase the step height. I already had 3 kg weights (6.6 lbs) from Cambodia, but I bought a set of 8 lb dumbbells from the local sports store. Each of these things has helped me increase my fitness and reduce my stress – because, let’s face it, exercise is more about happiness than about appearance.

In fact I have quite the ritual for evening stress relief. I exercise, I take my magnesium supplements, I take a relaxing shower, and I read in bed. I don’t know why, but reading in bed puts me to sleep pretty fast. I need to read a few pages of fiction (I’m currently in a P.G. Wodehouse novel) to put my mind to sleep, even if I’m already physically exhausted. This of course means it can take me a long time to get through a novel.

FAMILY MOVIE NIGHTS

One of my favorite things to do is introduce my kids to the movies I enjoyed as a child. They’ve enjoyed this tradition so much that from time to time they ask if I remember any other movies from my childhood that they haven’t seen. Here I’m highlighting the funny ones in alphabetical order (because it’s hard to choose a favorite, though Bejeweled and North Avenue Irregulars come close).

Bejeweled. A 1990s Disney Channel mystery movie. So hilarious (but also hard to find).

Candleshoe. A 1970s Disney mystery with Jodie Foster. May have initiated my lifelong love affair with “Greensleeves.”

Follow That Bird. A 1980s Sesame Street movie. Cleverly written to be enjoyable by adults and children alike, and impressive in its inclusion.

Freaky Friday. The 1970s Disney version, of course.

No Deposit, No Return. A 1970s classic caper movie, also by Disney. Utterly unrealistic but tons of fun.

Savannah Smiles. A 1980s B movie that is absolutely hilarious. Shares some similarities with No Deposit, No Return.

The North Avenue Irregulars. Another 1970s flick. A bunch of church ladies on a crazy adventure. My children know that to make me laugh, all they have to do is quote a random line from this movie.

VOCATION
Stories Set Free. A year ago I didn’t have a business. Now I’m booked a month or two in advance. I didn’t believe in myself, but Jonathan encouraged me to put myself out there anyway. I’m glad I took the risk! I love my clients. I believe in the work they are doing, and I love reading their words and working with them to shape and smooth their stories. It is an absolute privilege to work with writers, and I’m thankful.

A Life Overseas. I continue to lead the missions website that I’ve been leading for 7 years. I love my writers, both new and known. I love receiving their submissions and sharing their true and beautiful messages with a larger community. I love helping them craft their words until they are just right. Readers still talk about how much they appreciate the articles, and the journey continues to be an exciting one (for example I’ve added several new writers this past year, and I’m adding a few more soon). For me this has been a very fulfilling ministry, one that I enjoy and one where I feel that my gifts are being used for Kingdom purposes.

Biologos and the Integrate curriculum launch (this is the one where I got to meet Francis Collins!!!). We talked about our unforgettable trip to D.C. on Facebook, but I never wrote about it here. A few years ago, frustrated with the quality of homeschool science materials, I started googling. I found the Biologos site and their pilot program for Integrate, a program that seeks to integrate quality science with a Biblical worldview. The truth is, you don’t have to give up good science to be a Christian, and you don’t have to give up Christianity to be a scientist. I have always believed this. Faith and science don’t have to be at odds. In fact, some of my greatest moments of awe and worship happen when I study science.

I applied for the Integrate pilot program and began piloting sample modules with my older children. Later when the curriculum was published and Biologos decided to throw a launch party for it, they invited me to come be a part of it. I felt out of my depth – nearly everyone there was a PhD scientist, and I was just this little homeschool mom with a stale bachelor’s degree in engineering. I can’t tell you what it did for my soul to be invited to spend time with this special group of people. For so long I have felt so alone. I couldn’t bond over a shared love of science with my Christian community, and I couldn’t relate to non-believing scientists on the deepest levels of reality. I was always hiding a part of me. But when I was with the Biologos people, I didn’t feel I had to hide anything. All parts of me were welcomed and accepted. And when we sang the Doxology together, I cried. I felt at home with them, even if for just a little while.

(Bonus: I’m heading to a homeschool convention in July to support the Biologos booth. I’m so excited!)

(Bonus to the Bonus: I might even get to meet Susan Wise Bauer at this convention.)

SPIRITUALITY

College Heights Christian Church – especially the New Creation Sunday School class. The believers in this class showed me that you can be faithful to the Scriptures without being corrupted by MAGA nationalism. They have restored my faith in the people of God, and I will be forever grateful for that.

My spiritual life really suffered over the last two years. When we returned to the U.S., I looked on in horror as American Christianity became infected with MAGA idolatry. I questioned everything I had ever known. It’s not like I hadn’t questioned things before. I had. I’d had plenty of faith crises in my life (and I’d written about them publicly), but this felt entirely different. Had I devoted my life to a religious movement that was only ever masquerading as biblical Christianity but was actually founded on an insidious quest for political power? I wasn’t sure I wanted my name associated with this political movement. It was some of the most profound pain I have ever experienced.

Today, I still believe Christianity is true – when it is unfettered by the base desire for power. In many ways it was the people at this local church who helped me believe it was possible to uncouple Christianity from power-hungry political movements.

But in addition to restoring my faith in faith, these people have welcomed us into their family. I felt very bruised and battered after losing Cambodia so suddenly and unexpectedly. Cambodia was my whole life. I’d never wanted that life, but after a few years, I fell in love. I didn’t know how to live without it. These people have gently taken care of our needs and showed me how to belong again.

After 20 years of sitting separately from my husband in church, it has been a relief to sit in the back row with my whole family and just be. No need to volunteer or minister to anyone. Just rest and recover. At the same time, it’s comforting to know that, when I’m ready, our church family has plenty of ministry opportunities for me to take part in. It’s a good place to be. (Oh, and the youth group has been great for our kids!)

LIFE

My house. A year and a half after signing the papers, I still can’t believe I got this amazing house. The yard, which is always wonderful, is especially beautiful right now. I have my own office. I have my own workout room. I have my own bathroom (this wasn’t always true in Cambodia). And due to multiple small miracles, we can actually afford this house, even in this tight economy.

My husband. He is still my best friend, and after 22 years I am more in love with him than I have ever been. We have two standing date nights a week. (Note: Date night doesn’t mean you have to spend money, although we sometimes do. Date night can be a walk in the neighborhood and coffee on the porch).

Years 18 to 21 were a strain on us. I had multiple health problems which interfered with our marriage; we repatriated unexpectedly to the States in the middle of a pandemic; and we self-isolated for longer than most to protect Jonathan’s health, which led to painful social isolation. Add in a faith crisis, and well, those were hard years. But we have found ourselves and found each other again since settling in this house, and marriage is good.

My self. When I look back over this list, I realize that some of the things I’ve done or am doing are about finding myself again. You change when you live overseas for a long period of time. You can’t help it. And when you come back, you’re different. You don’t know exactly where you fit, and you don’t know exactly who you are. For instance, I found that being an overseas missionary had become wedded to my identity in a way I hadn’t expected (especially since I never wanted to go in the first place!). Losing the expat life was a big loss and a big shift in my identity that I had to grapple with.

I think some of the items in this Favorite Things post have been about trying to find my place in my new life, about trying to figure out who Elizabeth Trotter is in this context. I was so unhappy for so long. It took me 12 months to truly accept that this was my new life, and 18 months to truly love it. So I feel like celebrating the seemingly little things that have helped me on my journey to love my new life in Joplin, MO. In the end, I think that’s really what this article was about.

Of House and Home

/ trotters41 / 16 Comments

by Elizabeth

It takes nine months to birth a baby. Nine months, a lot of frustration and discomfort, too many emotional ups and downs, far more waiting than we’d prefer, and a lastly, a good birth attendant. This is not unlike our nine-month-long search for Home last year.

The two photos above were taken on Closing Day, the day we signed on the (many) dotted lines and became homeowners for the first time. We love this house. Love it. After four months, I still wake up most mornings and think to myself, “How did I end up with the coolest house?!” Many evenings I think some iteration of the same.

We knew this house was a good fit for our family when we moved in; we just didn’t know how good of a fit it would be. There’s something special for all six of us at this house. The kids have an in-ground trampoline and a basketball court. There’s a campfire pit, a bunch of trees, and plenty of outdoor space to read and relax. And it’s all enclosed in a privacy fence so that I never worry about the kids while they’re playing outside.

There’s enough room for all four kids to study quietly and privately. I have my own office – something I never thought I’d have. Jonathan set up his office in a detached building that has heating and cooling, which means he’ll be able to meet with people in person while also preserving their privacy. We have a space for exercise. And I can’t believe it’s ours. Often as I’m making dinner, I think to myself, “This is my kitchen! I don’t have to leave here and start cooking somewhere else.”

I didn’t expect to feel so settled after moving into a house of our own. After living as a global nomad for so long, I wrongly assumed that permanent dwelling places were superficial, unnecessary things. I didn’t know a long-term home could make such a difference in how I feel. I know I promised earlier that I’d tell the story of how we got this incredible house, so here’s the long version. . . .

Nine months passed from the time we landed in the U.S. to the time we moved into this house. And it was somewhat like a surprise pregnancy: when we first arrived, we didn’t know we would be staying. We lived a few ignorant weeks between conception and that positive pregnancy test. Then the realization hit, and as I’ve explained before, I woke up miserable every morning. Perhaps it was repatriation’s version of morning sickness.

But then we had to get to work figuring out what to do and where to go. We made many plans; most of them fell through. We thought we would live in one city but instead landed in another. We were grateful to be given temporary housing on a college campus. Shortly after moving in, we contacted a local realtor.

Jonathan told her how he dreamed of land. After living in a concrete jungle for eight years, he wanted his kids to experience some of what he had experienced growing up in rural Missouri. (His Kansas City suburb truly had a rural feel at that time.) I didn’t care about land, but I did care about his happiness, so we started out by looking for land.

There weren’t a lot of houses with land in our price range, but we found something we thought might work. The house was super cute and had some really great land. It was older and needed a few repairs, and honestly it was too small for us, but we were confident we could restore the house’s former beauty and somehow adjust to its small size. Looking back, I see that it really was too small for our large family, but we were somewhat in denial because of our desire for open spaces.

Then we received the septic system inspection, which basically indicated a system in need of total replacement — an upgrade we could not afford. I’m thankful now that the first house didn’t work out, but at the time it was pretty disappointing.

Next, we looked for smaller lots. There still wasn’t much to be found, but we saw four or five houses on Zillow that might work. By the time our realtor called to arrange tours, all but one already had contracts on them. That’s how fast the housing market was moving last fall, even in the small town of Joplin.

We walked into the one available house and fell in love. It had enough room for all of us to work and study, it was a split level just like I’d always dreamed of, and it had both a covered porch and an expansive deck for entertaining. It had a spacious yard with older trees. The color of paint on the walls even fit our family’s style.

We made an offer based on our realtor’s estimation of its value. The owners would not lower the price, but they were still willing to sell it to us for the original listing price. Seeing as how there weren’t many houses on the market — and none at all that fit our large family — we decided to accept their terms. We’d read that throughout the country, home prices had soared during the pandemic, so we figured we had no choice. We needed a house by the end of December, we adored this one, and though it was priced higher than we preferred, it was still in our price range.

The inspection went well, and we were excited. Then the appraisal came in, and it wasn’t good news. This house didn’t appraise anywhere near its listing price. (Apparently our realtor knew what she was talking about – the house independently appraised right at her prediction.) This new information suddenly made the financing untenable. With the requirement of a greater down payment and/or PMI, this fantastic house wasn’t in our price range anymore.

We tried to re-negotiate, but negotiations fell through. I was heartbroken. I had been in love with this house. (I had not been in love with the first house.) What were we going to tell our children?? They had been through so much loss already last year. And more importantly, how were we going to find a house in time? We only had a couple weeks to secure a contract if we were going to have a place to live when we had to move out of our temporary housing (which was a hard deadline).

Time was running out, and I was nervous. There were a few houses on the market that could fit our family; our realtor hastily set up a couple tours. Jonathan was out of town, so I had to go alone. It felt strange because we always do big things together — but time dictated otherwise. The first house didn’t look like it would work for us, but the second house did. It had enough inside space to homeschool, the yard was big, and there was a separate building where Jonathan could work.

And two other potential buyers had looked at it that day.

I sent Jonathan photos and a description, and he replied, “Let’s go for it.” He hadn’t even seen it in person, but we knew we had to move fast. Our realtor advocated for us, and these owners worked with us on both pricing and repairs. They were all a true delight to work with. We were excited but still nervous – would anything interrupt the buying process on our third attempt?

But nothing did. It proceeded smoothly, and in December we moved into a house we knew we would love. We’ve grown to love it even more now than we did then. And I now understand why my husband wanted land — having a large yard has been such a joy for all six of us.

I remember when I was giving birth to my babies, I had certain feelings for my birth attendants. I felt like they had truly made the birth experience special. I felt like they had tried to honor my birth plan to the best of their ability. It’s not that birth isn’t painful – it is. But a good birth attendant will make it as comfortable and safe as he or she possibly can. And when the birth is over, you feel a sense of indebtedness to them.

I don’t know if birth attendants feel a special connection to you – they deliver so many babies after all. But I know a birthing parent feels a special connection to their attendant. And it’s the same way with a realtor. Helping people buy and sell houses is their day job – they do it all the time. But a family doesn’t buy a house just every day. It’s a momentous occasion. You remember the person who helped you through it. Both giving birth and buying a house are things you do only a finite number of times in life. If your helpers were good, you remember them with fondness.

So nine months after accidentally leaving Cambodia forever, we settled into a house that seems like it was built just for us and our family’s needs — and hopes and dreams. For we dream of this home becoming a launching pad for ministry. That’s already true in the sense that Jonathan does his ministry from this place, but in the coming years we also hope to host lots of people in our home and in our yard.

Maybe even you.

Return to Life

/ trotters41 / 12 Comments

by Elizabeth

The 2000 film Return to Me is a family favorite. The movie features Bob and Elizabeth, who have been together since high school and who are still very much in love. One tragic night Elizabeth, who was an organ donor, is killed in a car accident. We watch as doctors transfer her heart to Grace, a woman who’s needed a new heart for a long time.

Grace goes nervously into surgery, hopeful for a new life. Bob, blood still on his clothes, goes home to an empty house. It’s an agonizing scene.

Months later, Grace has recovered from surgery. Bob, meanwhile, is having trouble living without Elizabeth and has buried himself in his work. Friends continually try to set him up with other girls, but Bob wants nothing to do with anyone new. He can’t get over the loss of Elizabeth. Then one night during one of these blind dates, Bob meets Grace at the family restaurant where she works. Sparks immediately start flying.

In the following weeks and months, Bob’s heart opens up to new love. But Grace is guarding a secret. Although she doesn’t know that Bob’s wife’s heart beats inside her chest, for some reason she can’t bring herself to tell Bob she’s had a heart transplant. Eventually the two of them figure this fact out, and the revelation is traumatic for both of them. Bob disappears; Grace flies to Italy to paint.

While Grace is gone, Bob realizes he loves her and can’t live without her. He looks for her at the restaurant only to find that she’s gone. He acknowledges, “I miss Elizabeth. I’ll always miss her.” Still, he’s ready to embrace a new life with Grace. He goes in search of her, and their reunion is sweet. The audience can see them building a future together.

One year after having traumatically evacuated Cambodia, I think I understand a little of what Bob meant in his restaurant confession. We left Cambodia in March, just as the pandemic began closing borders. We were relieved to have made it to U.S. soil, and for several weeks we assumed we’d be able to easily re-enter Cambodia in the fall as planned. But by May our visa and passport plans began unraveling, and by June, life as we knew it in Cambodia was over.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

2020 became one long grieving session. This might sound strange if you knew me in the early 2000’s when Jonathan felt called to missions and I didn’t. You might remember how I fought the call for so long. But now I felt like Mr. Holland from the movie Mr. Holland’s Opus, in which aspiring composer Mr. Holland longed for fame and renown, but instead ended up teaching music to high school students. At the end of his career, when budget cuts forced him to retire early, he observed, “It’s almost funny. I got dragged into this gig kicking and screaming, and now it’s the only thing I want to do.”

Like Mr. Holland, I didn’t initially want to move to Cambodia, but once I got there, I found a life I loved. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye — but covid said differently. For weeks, I woke up crying. Opening my eyes each morning was a painful reminder of where in the world I wasn’t. In Cambodia I had a strong support system. I lived every day with a sense of meaning and purpose. I had a place in the community and rituals and routines that brought structure to our chaotic cross-cultural life. We had raised our children there, and Cambodia was all they knew.

It was a difficult life, sure, but it was also an exceedingly good one. And I wasn’t sure I would ever stop crying over this loss. I lived in the “if onlys.” If only we didn’t have passport problems. If only we didn’t have visa problems. If only covid hadn’t happened. If only, if only, if only. I thought if I could just get back to Cambodia, I could recapture all my former happiness. In reality, even if I could have returned, I couldn’t have recaptured my old life. Covid made that impossible for seven billion of us.

Then one day my near-constant crying stopped. I thought I had accepted my new circumstances. And I do believe I had accepted that I couldn’t get my old life back. But reflecting now, I realize that I struggled deeply throughout the fall and winter. I had said goodbye to my old life — though not in person and not on purpose. But I still didn’t know exactly what my new life would look like, so it was hard to root myself here. Everything seemed bleak. I didn’t think I could ever be happy again.

We were looking for a home at the time. We knew we had to be out of our temporary housing by the end of December. After several housing disappointments (a story I’ll tell another time), I began to fear becoming homeless (emotions may exaggerate facts, but the intensity of the feelings are real). We didn’t have a church home yet because of covid, so I didn’t have local community to help me through this transition. I knew I couldn’t get my old life back, but I still desperately missed it.

Finally, finally, we found a home that fit our family that was also in our price range. We signed the papers mid-December, which was a bit closer to the deadline than we would have preferred. Still, we were thrilled to have a place of our own. I had no idea it would be such an important milestone in our repatriation process.

We’ve been in our new home for three months now. It fits us so perfectly (I promise I’ll explain in an upcoming post). I live in the daily disbelief that we could have found such a fantastic place for our family to live. We are making it our own, slowly writing our name in the land. Jonathan is working on the yard. We have pictures on the walls. We have rituals and routines, and I’m slowly re-building a support system. Living in our home has helped get me “unstuck” from the grief and helped me to move forward. It has given me a glimpse of what the next season of life might look like.

Cambodia is still a natural part of our conversations, and we frequently talk about our old life. The six of us have so many shared memories, both pleasant and unpleasant. Occasionally I even long for life in Southeast Asia. But I no longer think I can’t live without Cambodia, that life simply cannot go on without Cambodia. I’m beginning to understand what life can look like here on the other side of the ocean. I feel like Bob, who knew that he would always miss his old life, but who now knew that he could also live a new life with Grace.

My old life and my new life, side by side.

Remember the Old Days of Blogging?

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by Elizabeth

Remember the old days of blogging? I do, and fondly. I loved how blogging was like carving out my own online space to be creative, to express myself, to have conversations and connect with the people I loved.

But eventually blogging started to stall. People started migrating to Facebook and Instagram; these were the new methods of communicating your message. And they came with new rules. Provide shorter, pithier (and sometimes meaner?) content. Always include a photo. Maybe even build your post around the photo, instead of the words. Extra points if you can edit and improve the photo.

And so for a time, it became easier and simpler for me to just to pour my personal content onto the Facebook platform. After a while the photo requirements started to feel heavy. I’m not a visual artist or a talented photographer. I know nothing about photo editing. I tell stories through words, usually long stories. Even with all these changes, I still kept at it.

But years of this social media habit took its toll. Facebook began to stress me out. It wasn’t the light-hearted online gathering place it used to be. It was filled with angst and stress. But I couldn’t figure out a way to get off of Facebook and still be a communicator, because Facebook was where the people were. And if you want to have meaningful conversations, you need other people to be involved. And importantly, I loved the ability to keep in touch with friends who were far away.

But about a month ago, after reading a book and doing some personal reflection, I signed out of Facebook. I didn’t tell anyone I was doing it, not even my husband, because I didn’t know how long my decision would last. A few days later he asked me a question about something that had happened on Facebook, and I replied, “I haven’t been on Facebook for 3 days. I don’t know what’s happening there.”

He (and the rest of the family) seemed thrilled that I wasn’t on Facebook.

As the days and weeks went by, I found I was less stressed out. I didn’t necessarily think I was acting any differently, but my family told me I seemed happier. And every time I considered signing back in, perhaps to try to connect with friends or find out what they’d been up to, I was filled with dread. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was afraid of getting sucked back into the endless scroll again or being activated by triggering content.

This experiment proved to me what I had only previously wondered about: Facebook is a place of stress for me. At this point the stress is so intense that it’s not worth the gains of being on it. Once upon a time, it hadn’t been stressful. It is now. Even though I dearly miss catching up with far-away friends on social media, I’ve realized that taking care of my mental health in this way is the right thing for me to do in this season.

But what to do about the writers and experts I followed on Facebook? After some investigation, I learned that serious writers back up all their content on their own websites, and they have email lists for people like me who want their content but don’t want social media. I signed up for all the email lists I needed, and now I happily receive their content without the stress of social media.

This made me consider the idea that perhaps the future of blogging lies in its past. That maybe people are returning to website-oriented writing once again. Or that maybe in the future, they will. This blog is our own: Jonathan and I pay for the privilege of hosting our own online space. The content doesn’t belong to a “free” social media company that bombards you with pointless or offensive ads, or that is constantly monitoring your online behavior (read the aforementioned book if you want more insight into the monitoring).

Regardless of whether or not the future of blogging lies in its past (my prediction could very well be wrong), I’m choosing to return to my blogging roots. I don’t plan to get back on Facebook any time soon. If you want to follow my journey (especially as I repatriate to the States), following the blog will be the fastest way to see new content. (Simply click on “Follow trotters41” on the side bar if you don’t already subscribe.)

I’ll also plan to use third party aps to post to Facebook, but I won’t be around to answer comments on Facebook itself. And I’ll eventually make that announcement on Facebook, too, so my online friends know what’s going on with me.

I want to start writing again, and this is the place where I’m going to do it. It may be in fits and starts. It may be small updates at first. I might include longer essays at some point. I may share mundane things that are going on with me; I may share books that are helping me along my journey. I may suddenly share something really private and profound. I don’t know how it will unfold. I’m just going to begin again.

I’m going to let trotters41 be in 2021 what it was for me when we first transitioned to Cambodia in 2012: a place to share my journey and a way to walk into the future, whatever that future looks like. In a way I’m coming home. This is the place I first found my voice, and I intend to find it again. I hope you’ll join me here.

(Affiliate links included)

Same Same, But Different

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by Jonathan

I am thrilled to announce that as of September 1st, I have officially joined the member care team at Team Expansion!

We’ve talked about this transition before, but since even I’m confused by my life lately, I thought I’d explain again. Also, since this position is a support-based position, we remain entirely grateful for your prayers and financial support. If you’ve ever thought of making a one-time gift, or partnering with us a monthly giver, those links are below. To get back up to fully funded, we’re needing to raise about $300/month, so any bit helps!

Team Expansion has about 350 workers in 50 countries. As part of the member care team, my role will be coming alongside of some of those folks to provide pastoral care and empathetic coaching. I’ve committed half of my client hours to Team Expansion workers, while the other half will be available to cross-cultural workers from the broader missionary community.

Doug Lucas, president of Team Expansion, explained my job like this:

“By helping to care for our field workers, Jonathan is the equivalent of a field ‘medic’ in the military. When our troops yell, ‘Medic!’ we hope he can already be in the theater of operation, wherever he is needed. In addition, we’ve asked him to help us make ready the field workers before they depart, as well as to properly care for them when they return.”

But what about Ozark? Yes, Elizabeth and I are teaching missions classes at Ozark this semester, and if you’ve been following along, you know that we’re loving it.

We hope to stay connected to the wonderful people and students of Ozark long past the end of this semester, and we plan to continue training future cross-cultural workers here. But at this point, it looks like our official capacity at Ozark ends, as planned, in December.

In the meantime, we’re looking for housing in the Joplin area, and waiting for our shipment (aka homeschool books) to finish its journey across the Pacific.

We are so grateful for you, our friends, our brothers and sisters. May the love of the Father, the presence of the Son, and the comfort of the Holy Spirit be very near to you this day.

As always, thank you for praying and thank you for sending!

— Jonathan T.

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This link describes the work I am tremendously privileged to do, both with Team Expansion and the broader missionary community: www.seeingtheheartsofthehurting.com

To make a one-time donation or set up a recurring gift, please visit https://seeingtheheartsofthehurting.com/donate/

This photo was taken during our first year with Team Expansion.