First Impressions

We've been a week in our new country now.  I was determined to hit the ground running, acclimating and adapting as quickly as we possibly could.  But it's a very strange thing to be in a foreign country.  How much do we try to fit in and become like those around us, and how much do we maintain the people who we are?  I don't know who I am supposed to be here.  I want to appreciate my host nation and try to go along with their norms and their ideals, but I am not a Singaporean.  I am me.

When I picture in my mind giving my children a world view by living overseas, I picture allowing them to see how the majority of the world lives.  What third world actually means, what little amount people can subside on, and even thrive and be happy!  I want them to understand how much they have and how grateful they should be for the abundance of wealth and food and means they've received just by being born where they were born.  I want them to learn to be appreciative and to be compassionate.  But how do I do that here?  We moved from a life of privilege to a country of even greater privilege and extravagance.  I'm afraid that living here may give them the opposite impression of the world - that they need more, that what they have isn't good enough.  How does one live modestly and contently and with a giving spirit in a world dripping with overindulgence?

At first I picked out our clothing carefully, did my hair and make-up particularly, feeling as if we needed to fit in with all of these posh city folk - both Singaporeans and expats.  Feeling that we needed to make a good impression on this place, to prove our worth and earn our acceptance. 

We went to find a bookstore the other day.  It was located in a mall on Orchard St. with shops like Chanel, Louis Vuitton, brands I had never heard of in my limited fashion world.  At first I was embarrassed to be there with my children.  With their t-shirts, shorts and sandals.  Ella's shirt was a "Life is Good" brand, she happily carried her tie-dyed book bag.  Molly had on a tank top and denim shorts, hair unbrushed.  I kept thinking how much we did not fit in here.  Andrew was so nervous that we were going to get kicked out of the mall for not being wealthy enough.  But once we found the bookstore on the third floor, it was like we walked back into our own world.  We were surrounded by thousands of English and American authors and we fit in perfectly on the hardwood floors, surrounded by Greg Heffley, Mary Lennox, Katniss Everdeen, and Meg Murray.  Being there helped to ground me, get my bearings, and allow me to remember who we are.  We are not shape shifters.  We do not change to become like those around us.  My kids never felt a need to change.  It was me who felt that mantle of responsibility. 

As we walked back through the mall, I smiled and watched my children proudly. We are real.  We are beautiful.  Let us show you who we are, not by the sticker price of our clothing, but by our smiles, our warmth, our acceptance of others, our confidence in being who we are.  We hope to create relationships here, not through what we have but by who we are.  And though this is not the overseas that I felt I needed to show my kids, it is still a wonderful place in which to learn about the world at large, with plenty of life lessons on compassion and gratitude, and how to be happy with who  you are.