Memorable Missionary Moment (reverse culture shock)

Maybe it dates back to my childhood having sensitive skin, when Tinkerbell bubble bath caused me to break out in an itchy red rash, I don't know, but I've really never been much of a bubble bath kind of girl.

Fast forward to Guatemala, 1987. Jim and I lived in the hideous house with the outdoor bathroom. We shared a single camping style solar bag with a nozzle that slowly dripped water. During rainy season we heated the water over the stove, filled the black bag, carried it out and hung it on a hook from the ceiling, and each took a 3-minute "shower."

Rabbit trail side story: Not wanting to get my clothes wet, and trying to jump out in time for Jim to get in while the water was still warm, I used to wrap in a towel and run back in the house to get dressed. I'll never forget my horror when I was about 8 months pregnant, barely covered by a bath towel, dashing into the house... when I heard and saw local Mam Indian children giggling and gawking from a neighbor's tree where they were perched slightly higher than our wall. They are probably still laughing about that huge, ghostly white lady running into the house.

Later, living in the high desert of Oaxaca, where water is a commodity, I remained skilled at the military shower technique, wetting my hair and body, shutting off the valve, and soaping up without running water. With this background of less than luxurious bath times, maybe you can picture the following scenario.

It was the fall of 1995. We had driven through the U.S. towing a 28-foot travel trailer (many rabbit trail stories there, but I will resist!), where we camped off and on with our five young children. The memorable moment happened in Georgia, where we were visiting some supporters on our way to Florida. My friend Darlene, bless her heart, decided to bless this poor missionary gal and treat me to an evening of solitude and luxury.

Darlene not only loaned me the use of her lovely master bath, she actually filled the bubble bath for me, put on some lovely background music, lit scented candles, and gave me a basket of other girly bath items and a devotional book to presumably read in the tub.

She was delighted with the joy of giving such a thoughtful surprise. What she didn't realize was how uncomfortable I felt at that moment. I totally appreciated the love and care behind her kind gesture, but I was clueless how to receive it. After years of being a mommy with little ones frantically banging on the bathroom door, I had no idea how to relax and soak in a bubble bath. Frankly, just relaxing was a foreign concept at that season of life.

Darlene assumed I was taking pleasure in my pamperedness, but actually I was in a panic. How long should I stay in there to not offend her? How long is a bath of that sort supposed to last? Every minute seemed like an eternity. Even though there was a second bathroom, my senses stayed on high alert for someone needing a potty.

Honestly I couldn't pretend to guess how long I stayed in there, but it seemed plenty long enough to me. Extravagantly long enough. Nonetheless I vividly remember the look of obvious disappointment on Darlene's face even before she exclaimed, "Finished already?"

After years of living on the mission field, studying the culture, learning the language, and trying to blend in, nothing prepared me for moments like this, when I committed a social bloop in my old home culture. It's a phenomenon referred to as "reverse culture shock" - and I had a hefty dose of it.

Thankfully Darlene graciously forgave me, and has continued to support our ministry faithfully for all these years. I just wish I could have articulated at the time just why that situation was so awkward. I've laughed over it with other missionary ladies since then, acknowledging the genuine need to relax occasionally.


The trailer, 1995, with Michael, Hannah, Timmy with Bekah, and Christopher