The KNOWN Stranger

“Humanity is like a gigantic spider web.  Touch it anywhere and the whole thing trembles.  For as we move about our world, a kind word here, an ugly act there, what we do for good or ill will touch this person, this person will touch another, and so on, until who knows where the whole things ends.  No man, no woman is an island.” 

–Frederick Buechner

On August 28^th, 2006, I caused my world’s spider web to tremble.  My life changed radically as I sat staring out the window of a plane that had landed in San Jose, Costa Rica.  Just hours before, I had waved goodbye to my parents as they stood helplessly crying at the security gate in Indianapolis, Indiana; I had just moved to Central America.  An entourage of Young Life staff met me at the airport, and took my to lunch before they took me to my “home” to meet my “family”.  I moved directly into tico (Spanish slang for Costa Rican) culture and full-time Spanish.  I was surrounded by new people, smells, and sounds.  I stuck out; I’m a nearly albino, freckle-covered red-headed gringa.  My status as a stranger is impossible to miss.  It's amazing how fast someone can become a stranger.  In one day, I had gone from a place where I was known and loved by many in a culture where I knew what was accepted and “normal” behavior to be a stranger lost in a strange, new land.

You’d think 11 years later, I would no longer feel like a stranger.  But the word stranger still seems like a good description most of the time.  Obviously, I still physically stick out.  My Spanish is pretty good but my accent immediately gives away my very much non-native-ness.  There are days when I declare that I am Tica de Corazon (Costa Rican at heart) and I honestly feel it and believe it.  (I do cheer on the Costa Rican Men’s Soccer team over the USA and encourage you to watch them in the World Cup next summer – they are incredible!)  Most days I follow cultural protocol without having to think about every move.  Wear pants even though it’s really hot and humid.  Throw the toilet paper in the trash can.  Greet everyone with a kiss when you walk into a room, and don’t forget to kiss them each again when you say goodbye.  But there is always something that reminds that I don’t fully belong.  I’m still an outsider, a stranger. 

This week I sat across the table of another immigrant friend who said, “I really just miss being known.”  Her honesty resonated with me.  At first, I was saddened by the fact that I feel there are such a small number of people that surround me that make me feel truly known.  But then, I was excited because I’ve been given the opportunity to understand a piece of so many people’s journeys: people who find themselves living outside of their passport country for a myriad of reasons; people who are strangers. I also realized how incredible it is to know that we are known.  We are KNOWN.  Every hair on our head counted; every tear carefully caught; every thought and prayer heard; every passion, hope, desire, and dream recognized and celebrated.  I’m not a stranger to the Creator of the Universe.  None of us are.  We are known deeply.  Know that today.  You are not a stranger to the King.  You are beloved and known.