Downshifting

I bought my first car in 1972.  It was a 1969 Opel Cadet. It had a stick-shift transmission - with a four-speed on the floor.  I learned a lot about shifting gears and using a clutch on that poor vehicle.  When I needed to make turns, stops, or navigate hills, I learned the art of downshifting.  And on rare occasions, I would downshift and rev-up the rpms – to get a bit more power to pass another car.  It seemed like I was always running through the gears in the hills of Grand Rapids, Michigan. 

I was also starting to shift through gears, as I navigated the roadway of life.

From June 1977 to December 1978, there was some serious downshifting occurring in the Carr household.  Between my parents and me, one of us was in a state of flux during that 18-month period of time.  Change and transition was very much afloat within our family.

One major change occurred on May 31, 1977.  

My dad retired at the age of 49.  He had worked at the same factory for 30 years.  He started on January 2, 1947 by pushing a broom at 99 cents an hour.  This was shortly after he graduated from high school.  The factory was a U.A.W. shop, and eventually he worked his way up to be a “journeyman machine repairman”.  He was a jack-of-all-trades; good with his hands; and very good at fixing machines.

Soon after he turned 40, my dad began to talk often about the possibility of retiring.  Yet, when he talked about it, he always framed it within the context of being able to retire so that he could serve Jesus full-time.  For nearly 10 years, he voiced this dream.  His passion was to have a full-time ministry that would be fulfilling to him and my mom.  So, the closer he got to having 30 years of seniority, the more conceivable it was that he actually could retire. 

Once my dad had a target date to retire, he began looking for places to serve.  Eventually, he and my mom settled on becoming caretakers at a Christian camp in the north woods of Michigan.  It was on a large lake that was half-a-mile from Lake Michigan.  It was an award camp for the Bible Memory Association (BMA).  It was his dream job, and he was suited well for it.  He got to fix and maintain a facility, but he also got to memorize, and help others to memorize, God’s Word.  He loved it.

So, my dad and mom downshifted.  They sold the home that he and my grandpa had built.  The sale closed soon after he retired.  And, they took off on their own “mission trip”.  He would often affectionately call my mom “Sarah” in reference to the journey of Abraham and Sarah in the Old Testament.  My parents were on a journey, and my dad was living his dream and calling.

My parents’ transition happened while I was on my own “mission trip” in the Dominican Republic (DR). 

While I was in the DR for nearly two years, I traveled back and forth to the states some - which kept me connected with my parents’ transition.  I visited them in August 1977 at the camp when I was between contracts.  I was there when they celebrated their 30^th anniversary.   A few months later, my mom and dad visited me in the DR for 10 days to see what I was doing.  And, I also squeezed in a quick trip in November 1977 to be in Steve’s wedding.  I had the “pedal to the metal” and didn’t let a lot of dust settle under me.

Overall, my experience in the DR was one huge learning curve.  “Stretching” isn’t strong enough to describe it.  I grew up in a lot of ways.  I became much wiser and less naïve. I dealt with experiences that were totally “outside of my box”.   And, I did a lot of “on the job learning”.

I worked in one of four group-homes with 8-12 American teenagers and four staff in each one.  Two were for boys and two were for girls.  While it wasn’t technically a 24/7 job, I did live and work in the same house.  For the first year, I oversaw their schooling – which was through correspondence courses.  Since truancy was often an issue, those who were motivated could make up ground on subjects they had missed.

It is a gross understatement to say that I encountered behavioral issues which were foreign to me. 

Authority, substance issues, and misdemeanor-type behaviors were quite common for new arrivals. For me, it was another layer of culture shock that I had to work though.  It was a bit disconcerting to have my motorcycle stolen, or to track down a runaway at a bar, or other unsavory joints.  It was certainly challenging.  Yet, I did get to see God at work changing lives – including mine.

Because our work was in English, I struggled with Spanish.  I mistakenly began to think that I couldn’t learn another language. While the work was challenging and busy, I did manage to end my lack of exposure to ethnic restaurants in an unexpected way.  A common way to spend time off was to go to an air-conditioned restaurant or a movie theater.  I enjoyed lots of dishes at a great Chinese restaurant in the next city.  Note: You might want to hold on to this tidbit of information for a story down the road.

I was blessed to travel all over the island. I loved it.  I learned to snorkel, and do white water tubing. In addition to the motorcycle, I briefly owned a horse, and later on found a dog on the beach.  She was appropriately called Sandy.  

As a bonus, I got to do a three-day hike to a 10,000’ peak in the middle of the island.  It is the highest peak in the Caribbean, and near the border with Haiti.  Twice, I was able to visit Haiti.  I was moved by human poverty in ways that I had never imagined.  It was sobering.  It was the first time, I felt spiritual darkness.  And, it challenged my beliefs, worldview, and overall perspective on the world.

Before I went to the DR, I was given an old Argus SLR camera.  I began to take pictures and put together slideshows.  When I was back visiting in the states, this “shy guy” was asked to speak at church and other groups.  I found that slides helped.  A picture is truly “worth a thousand words”.  I also perfected an early version of the “power-point presentation”. I would literally, and powerfully, point to part of a slide, and describe it - as it was displayed on the screen.  Yes, language does change.

After nearly two years, and lots of transition, I came “home”. 

But, I did not really come home!    Because of my parents move, THEIR new home wasn’t mine.  I felt displaced, and was doubly disoriented.  I was unprepared for reentry into the US culture.  As a result, it was painful.  I felt like the world had tilted and somehow I had missed it.   In going to the camp, I also went to another “culture that was new to me”.  I was not geared up for this - at all.  I was alone and had no friends near the camp.  On one occasion, I was so confused and overcome with frustration that I lost it.  I didn’t understand the emotion I was feeling.  Fortunately, I broke down in front of my dad.  He listened and prayed. But, in my downshifting, I had no purpose, and didn’t know what to do next.  I felt lost.

I also didn’t realize that I had changed.  I was not the same person that I had been before the DR.  

In the isolation of the north woods of Michigan, I had to sort through things, evaluate, and do some readjusting.  I had to take time to wrestle with hearing God’s voice.   Fortunately, God used my parents, the camp, and the north woods to get me to pause, rest, and reflect before trying to move forward.  I really needed time to downshift.  God knew that.

As a blessing, I got to do things with my dad at the camp.  I had access to all kinds of woodworking tools, and made bookshelves.  I got to plow lots of snow, and spend time tooling through the woods on a snowmobile. I learned how to roof buildings, cut trees, and haul logs to be milled.  Mostly, though, I got to spend some special time with my parents - as an adult.  It was a precious time.  I am very thankful.  This season was really God’s gift to me.

In my season of downshifting, I learned a couple of valuable things.  First, I saw my dad be very intentional in walking out his desire to “retire”, so that he could serve Jesus full-time.   He wanted to invest himself in things eternal all the time, so he went after it with gusto.  The model of his example has stuck with me.  Second, as a result of my own struggle with reentry, God began to give me a desire to help others in their cross-cultural transitions. And, in the process, the theme of “trusting God in transitions” starts to emerge - just a tiny little bit.   

Note: For those tracking the seasons of my “Calling Journey”, please know that I struggled a bit with how to look at my reentry from the DR.  The first time I looked at it, I saw this time as “the Valley of Dependence”.  But, as I looked at it in the context of 65+ years, this four-month-long valley paled in comparison to one that was coming.  It also became clear that I was not yet done with my Natural Promotion stage.  More of that was still coming.  So, now I see this four-month season as a time of momentary downshifting. It was a time that I needed to evaluate and regroup.  It was much like navigating a downhill switchback in order to get over to the next road.  I hope this helps, especially in unpacking your own journey.

Next Time: When in Doubt, Go Farther West!