Personal conflict is a notorious bad actor splintering great work being done overseas. Too often, it lands once-starry-eyed global workers back in their home countries…wounded, bewildered, and even angry.
No one sets out on the field anticipating that broken relationships will take us under. But for a lot of global workers?read more
I don’t even remember who said it to me. But I remember, as we sat in my African living room, their sentiment as we discussed culture questions floating on the top of our minds: “It’s not wrong. It’s just different,” he repeated over and over.
JUST DIFFERENT? What I liked
This is probably not a bad default position, particularly for those of use who have very defined ideas of right and wrong (enneagram 1’s or one-wings, or C’s on the DiSC profile, this might be you).read more
My family wrangled our carry-ons into that taupe-colored hum of a 757, bound for six months stateside. (After the lunacy of the week before, preparing to abscond for six entire months, I was just grateful to make it to the plane.)
I felt conflicted.
There was of course the sizeable slab of me that couldn’t wait to throw my arms around my parents, watch my kids grab the hands of with my nieces and nephews again. I was geared up to sit around a table with the people I’ve loved for a lifetime, just like that. Perhaps I would carry a dish of corn on the cob, say, to laugh at my sister’s jokes in crazy-easy normalcy. I hoped to devour a slightly unhealthy amount of blueberries and bing cherries in those months; to close my eyes over the quiet purr of a road devoid of potholes; to throw a few dishes in the dishwasher just because I could.read more