The Kids are alright

Sometimes, every so often, I feel a bit unsettled about how well the kids have adapted to their new environment. When I see how much they have embraced their new world with very little looking back, I wonder if that is a much a failing of our ability to make them feel emotionally connected to their previous home as a testament to their resilience.

Yes, they mention missing certain family and friends. Yes, they muse about what about their old rooms and their beloved house they wish they had here, but there have been no meltdowns, no demands for an explanation, no confusion as to how we got here.

For the year before we left the US Randy and I made conscientious efforts to prepare our children mentally and emotionally for the big change that we knew was ahead.

For years leading up to our move, we have not hidden the true identity of their place of birth from them, the good and the bad. It was as logical to them when we told them that we were leaving as it was to us. They seemed to understand even better than some of my close grown adult relatives.

On a regular basis I am asked by local New Zealanders how my kids are doing. They ask in earnest if this country is so different from where we came from and if the kids have been able to adjust. Every time I am asked I find myself pausing. I still don't know how to answer the question. When I look into the eyes of the questioner I feel as though they expect me to tell them my sad stories of woe; of kids in a challenging transition; of struggle and even conflict. My shrug takes them aback. They really have no idea what we left.

The United States seems to be this shining wonderland to many people looking from the outside in, even those who speak knowledgably about its flaws. I don't think that most Kiwis really understand what it is like to live in a place where fighting for your humanity is a daily battle, where every aspect of your identity poses a struggle, where innocence is lost between the school shooter drills, parents not feeling safe to let kids play with just any neighbors, the pandemic making being out of the house dangerous, and having to grow up in the knowledge of what it means to be Black in America.

My children had a sheltered and safe and secure and very loving life in the US, filled with privileges and experiences that Randy and I could never have imagined growing up. My children were not destitute or neglected, but they did have to grow up in the toxic stew that is America and they too have expressed no desire to look back.

They look forward to visits from family and maybe one day visiting family in the US but they are excited to explore where they are now as well and they are embracing their new home.

The Facebook pictures of smiling faces are not a front. The kids truly are OK and they are thriving. God is Good.