Travel Sized

I was born at 12:47pm, May 17th, 1989, in Kokomo, Indiana. I weighed 5lbs10ozs, 18 ½ inches long. I was pretty small; I think I was the smallest Peters’ baby. But I was born into a life of transition- so being “travel sized” was to my advantage. When I was born my dad was a youth minister at a congregation in Kokomo, Indiana. He had graduated from the Sunset School of Preaching only two years prior, but had dreams of being a pulpit preacher. I once was asked if I would rather my dad be a preacher or a youth minister… He is an excellent minister, makes sharp investigated parallels between scripture and present day. But if I had to choose I’d have to point out his goofy and witty exterior that easily relates to young people. However, back to my story: Because I was the smallest (and the youngest at the time) I was my parents tag along when my dad went to interview for what would be his first pulpit ‘gig.’ In less than a year we were officially relocated to the Deep South. I love my family in the south, but will forever be a cultural puzzle. You see, after being raised in the south I moved yet again to the north and lost my southern accent completely… now all that remains is my love for fried chicken and the occasional “Y’all”.

After living in Louisiana for 7 years we made a family decision to move to the Seattle, Washington area. I was only eight years old and in the 3rd grade when we arrived. Washington was a whimsical place. I was mesmerized by its diverse culture: Asians, Canadians, Europeans… and that was just in our Sunday morning church assembly.

          It was in Washington that I first learned to talk. I had been speaking for quite a few years at that point, but hadn’t really learned to
talk or express my opinion. We were a home-school family. I had learned to read when I was 4; was in my first bible-bowl when I was 6; wrote my first poem when I was 8… I was and am a very ‘task-by-task’ kind of kid. But it was in Washington that I first learned Sign Language. They made us memorize hand gestures to communicate, plus your facial expressions could change the entire out come of the conversation! I didn’t make very many facial expressions back then… I was pretty shy and my face normally would be saying, “Please leave me alone.” But I found my voice in that quiet class room. My apparent transformation would normally have been associated with adolescents or being a ‘tween,’ but I would beg to differ. Living in Seattle and learning the things that I learned there changed me.

          But we didn’t live in Seattle forever. In fact, I believe the official count was nearly 5 years. We made a second appearance in the south, returning to work with the same church we worked with when I was just a newborn. Things changed, people changed… Life brings good and bad. So after living in Louisiana for 3 years we decided to move again. Because I was a young spectator in most of these transitions, I only know a child’s version of what changed. But what I do know is that my dad’s heart was slowly leaving the continental US. My dad was offered a preaching position in a small town on Flathead Lake, in Montana. This was a stepping stone to mission work that he was dreaming of. At this point in time my younger sister and I were the last kids at home. Not knowing when my dad would be given the opportunity to begin his mission work abroad, Micah and I made him a promise. We wrote out a contract stating that we would follow him wherever the Spirit called him to, (little did I know, the Spirit wasn’t going to take me with them- Sorry Micah!) Before plans were set in stone for my family to begin mission work, I joined the Adventures in Missions program in Lubbock, Texas. Now, setting out on my own mission, my parents and I parted ways. I went to Mexico City for 15 months, and they are currently located in Gosford, Australia. I will never regret the decision I made to join the Adventures in Missions program. My life in Mexico for those 15 months was incredible. Just as if it became a part of my very DNA, Mexico is on my heart daily. It was the most challenging, life altering experience I’ve gone through. However, there will always be a part of me that desires the community I was raised with.

          My family moved around a lot (well, a lot for a family without military connections). For the first 17 years of my life they were the most
consistent things in my life. Even with as ever changing as a person can be, they were my stability. They are my metaphorical “house I grew up in”; they are my “home town”; they are my culture. You could never fully understand me without meeting my family. I’ve lived away from home since 2006 and I’ve yet to feel at home away from them. I know that my family is unique. At one point in time we lived in four different countries at the same time. I am what they call a “multi culture kid” which is similar to a “third culture kid”, someone who is born or raised abroad. In my case I wasn’t raised abroad, nor was I raised by a parent of foreign decent. I was simply uprooted and replanted so many times that I don’t really have ties to any particular place. I say this carefully, and with as much respect as I can summon… but in many respects I feel just as much Mexican as I am American. Not because of heritage or nationality. Because of my upbringing and lifestyle, I adapt to culture and traditions pretty smoothly. The only problem so far is I’ve yet to stay in once place. Who knows, maybe I’ll find
someone someday that once again will become my “home town” or my “house I grew up in”… I pray that God is preparing that same experience for me and my future family. I pray that he will make us mobile so we too can cross the world and back again, still just as close as before.