Dandelions

I’ve been trying to put a finger on the restlessness I’ve begun to feel in the past month. It’s not overwhelming. But sometimes something seems missing. A bit of loneliness. Though it took me a while to figure out the reason, the answer now seems obvious. I’m in transition. And with transition anywhere comes a season of re-developing relationships.

I miss the ease, comfort, and fun of friendships back home. I dislike this awkward period of beginning relationships, even though it certainly has its beautiful moments. And I am frustrated by the lack of closeness I feel in my new Vietnamese friendships. But I’m forgetting just how long it took to develop the close relationships I experienced back home. I’m comparing relationships that have been in place for no longer than 2 months to friendships I built over at least three years. Also, this stage is something I’d be experiencing no matter where in the world I was right now - saying goodbye to college friends and transitioning into the “real world,” including many new relationships.

Granted, the process is magnified by being in a different cultural context. Fewer common experiences make for more difficulty in truly understanding and relating. The relationships are equally precious, but seemingly slower in developing. Brian, the director of REI-VN, wisely pointed out that our friendships here could actually be growing three times as quickly as they did in the U.S., but the gap between our backgrounds (not to mention language!) is so great that the relationships still may not feel as close as ones we developed over an even shorter period of time back home. (Say, for example, 3 weeks? Shout-out to CO training folks!)

So how does all this relate to dandelions? Sarah and I were talking about this transitional stage, and she made a great analogy. Our friendships from home are like a dandelion. We grew up together for a period of time in the same stalk and flower. We experienced the awkward beginning stages as the green plant began poking up from the ground. Then those friendships blossomed. And as we grew, we impacted and shaped one another, truly affecting who we have become today.

But dandelions turn white. They die. And the seeds are blown apart, in every which direction. Perhaps to Colorado, Michigan, North Dakota, Texas, Kentucky…the Dominican Republic, Guinea Bissau, Japan, Thailand, Slovenia, Uganda, Turkey, Vietnam, Northern Minnesota...you get the idea.

It’s simultaneously a sad and a happy phenomenon (oh the paradox of life). And one that will repeat itself who knows how many times in each person’s life. The concept’s by no means new. But I liked the dandelion picture. And how viral dandelions can be. I wonder what we would find if we could pick one of today’s dandelionsand trace the story of its ancestral seeds all the way back to their origination? Food for thought.