Moving On

       I was sending some pictures to someone through WhatsApp and at one point they responded: “I hope your moving on day was good….”. I realize this was a typo and was supposed to read “moving in day” but I was struck by the trueness of the statement. I am/was moving on. I was moving into my house and bidding the team of Americans/English speakers behind. I was now becoming fully immersed in Dominican culture, lifestyle, and even food. No more iced tea and free refills, no more being able to strike up a friendly conversation with a stranger, no more being independent…for a while. I did not realize how much language played into being independent until coming here.

       I am moving on from my past, from what I have known, from the culture I am accustomed too. It makes me think of the song from Fiddler on the Roof “Far From the Home I love”. The 2^nd born of the daughters decides to follow her fiancé to Serbia where he has been sent as punishment for causing in uprising in Russia. She leaves everything she knows because her heart now belongs to that man and she follows him to become his wife there; in that frozen wasteland.

      Moving on is a hard concept to grasp. Moving forward, although the same concept; sounds and feels different. There is just something about “moving on” that I cannot explain, it feels final… but I may be the only one that thinks that.

     Bidding farewell to Jonathan’s sponsor on Wednesday night marked the beginning of the end of my “moving on” process. I have no return ticket to the USA as of now, and my only “normalcy” to American culture is our cat in the house.

      I reflect back on my two heroines in scripture. As cliché as it sounds, my heroines are Ruth and Esther. They both had “moving on” days in different ways. For Ruth I think it was when she married an Israelite but then again when she left Moab to follow Naomi. Esther’s was much more sudden. She was living a normal life but was then thrust into the Persian harem to display her pretty face before the king. Talk about culture shock! At least I was not taken suddenly from home and thrust into a harem to try to compete for the prettiest face and such. I had time to think, accept and process. And unlike Ruth, I will not have to leave my country if I become a widow. I have it better than my heroines, but to know they had to handle difficult “moving on” days is a comfort in this transition process.

        We celebrated our 2 month anniversary on Friday and went out to dinner with friends. The restaurant we went to was right on the ocean and it was relaxing to just look out at the waves and smell the salt water. There is a big difference to me between just seeing and hearing the water and smelling it. This was another moving on moment. I have never lived close to the ocean, but rather, in entirely landlocked states. Being born and raised in Oklahoma a lake 2 hours away was my “beach” and then moving to Tennessee there were only rivers. Moving to Cincinnati for school, again, only provided only a river, so being three blocks from the ocean is amazing. When people told me the ocean was relaxing I thought it was just because they grew up near one so it reminded them of home. Well, no, it is actually relaxing, even for people like me raised on the plains of the Midwest.

        But I think we have all had “moving on” experiences. It could be leaving a job, moving from your family home, moving cities to follow a job, getting a new pet after the loss of one, going back to school, etc. Some moments are big, others are not; but each has a challenge in its own right. It's how we handle these moments that make us like Esther or Lot's wife. 

      Although the jury is still out on my "moving on" actions, one thing is for sure; Toto, I don't think we are in the USA anymore...