the migrant wife

I might be about 10 years late to the blog hype. But not to worry, this is just for me to read. For as long as I remember, I loved documenting things – my thoughts, my experiences, something funny I’d heard. I would draw cartoons of stories, and keep a notebook for when we went on family holidays. So writing seemed like a natural way for me to process things.

Whenever I learn something new, I like to write it out in prose. Perhaps that’s just the history training in me – formulating arguments, collecting evidence, organising thoughts… the usual drill.

This is different though. This kind of learning isn’t the same. It isn’t “read around 20 books on the subject and you’ll understand enough to get through the next assignment” kind of learning. This isn’t “do enough practice exams and you’ll sort of get the pattern and then you’ll smash the next exam” kind of learning. This is a “live in this day in and day out for maybe 30 years and you’ll still find it surprising, and lovely, and irritating, and difficult but just in new ways” kind of learning. This is life learning, I guess.

So that’s kind of why I’m writing about my journey as a migrant wife. I suppose I will never “pass the exam” or “complete the assignment”. But there’s something fun and freeing about that, right?

This will probably be a journal / stream of consciousness / diary / mind-dump / blog as much as anything else. This will probably be a place where I just unload and process and take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ (2 Cor 10:5). Probably will also be a place to untangle silent cultural assumptions that inadvertently give rise to conflict and miscommunication. Perhaps a place to think deeply what it means to love or live or just rave about my new obsession.