Middle Earth and online school

Imagine someone drops you into Tolkien’s Middle Earth. Since you’ve read the books, you realize, after seeing hobbits and dwarves and elves, that you find yourself somewhere in this magical land. You have only a beginner’s level of Elvish, however, so you aren’t really able to communicate with the “people” you see. Then you get swept up with a group of nine travelers who seem to be on some sort of quest. They make gestures letting you know that they’re on a long journey and show you a ring, indicating that it needs to be taken somewhere. They put you in the front their group and motion for you to keep walking. You don’t understand what’s going on, and you have no idea where the group is going, much less how to get there or what you might do upon arrival.

Sometimes, living cross-culturally feels like this. 

A couple of disclaimers. Firstly, I realize that it’s totally possible to feel lost or confused in your home culture: you don’t have to move abroad to experience this. Secondly, notice that I said “sometimes.” Living cross-culturally does not always feel this confusing; while there might be at least some degree of uncertainty at any given moment, many parts of life feel normal and clear. But every so often a situation arises that makes me feel as bewildered as the fictional scenario above would. 

In preparation for our time in the US later this year, I’ve been trying to figure out what the kids’ schooling situation will look like. The Belgian francophone public school system offers online-based distance learning, and it seemed like the best option to explore. Trying to understand what this online platform would offer, how to use it, etc., via phone conversations in French, but not really even knowing what questions I needed to ask, proved to be a bit overwhelming. The language barrier wasn’t the only struggle: I was trying to discuss/ask questions about something of which I had next-to-zero foundational knowledge. It felt like trying to play a game without being sure of the rules or even of the overall goal.

What should I do with these feelings?

On one level, it reminds me that I am only human. I am capable of many things, but as a human being I have physical and mental limits. God has no limits, but I, as His creature, do. Recognizing those limits is helpful and healthy; pretending they aren’t there comes pretty close to putting myself on the throne as divine. I am then reminded of a passage like Isaiah 42:16 that talks about God leading and guiding the blind in a way that they do not know. I need God’s guidance and sometimes feel very blind!

But on another level, these types of situations push me further into the reality that this world is not my True Home. No matter what country I’m in, I’m just a sojourner. A pilgrim. Someone passing through. I want to do the best I can to, for example, educate my children and to understand the Belgian francophone online platform, but the uncertainty and the tension I feel point me to my Forever Home, reminding me that one day I will know fully and be fully known. Any attempt to achieve perfect fulfillment in this life will prove empty and fleeting: we were absolutely put here for a purpose, but that purpose was never to meant to be be deep and eternal satisfaction. Only Heaven can offer that.