I never imagined how appropriate it would be to use this blog title as my keeping-in-touch, Au-pair-adventure blog. But here I am, getting to know my new family, and they both have rebellious spirits, much like mine.
The little girl is a "tester" of boundaries (her mother brags, and I have seen)-- another strong-willed stallion, whom I must discipline and train but not break. The mother claims to be a recovering people-pleaser, although I have more recently seen that she too, will push whatever limits are not enforced with consequences. I have a measure of authority over one and under the other-- I am the spread in a submission sandwich. I am about to have oh-so-much practice navigating some complex boundaries. I am nervous but excited-- this is going to be very difficult, but I am going to grow. And indeed, we are well underway.
While I am not foolish enough to traverse the ocean without a contract, the exact boundaries of expectations, consequences and services had yet to be laid out satisfactorily. I became more anxious for this discussion as some of my early expectations were quickly disappointed. Before arriving, I thought they were healthy, non-picky eaters. (So did they, until I started discussing traditional nutrition and challenging the low-fat notion.) I thought there was a measure of logistical organization. However no further research had been done into the proper process of my on-base paperwork in the time between my first interview and my flight, and precious days were wasted in the wrong office waiting rooms. It took the better part of a week to sit down and have this boundaries discussion, and to my shame it took me 24 hours after that discussion to begin realizing that no compromises whatsoever had been made to me, and in fact the perks offered me (German classes, a limited work week OR overtime pay) had been coaxed away using some fairly manipulative negotiation tricks. She had made her problems mine, but had not made my problems hers.
In taking on this position, I have been excited to learn how to be a servant, according to traditions I have read about in old Britain and heard about from my grandparent's reminiscing about growing up in the South. These stories are about the place of valued household servants in a family; a group of people without whom the household simply does not run smoothly. A forgotten class who enrich the lives of the ones they serve and who are seen as indispensable, there are both good and bad stories about their treatment, but I had high hopes for my value as a luxury (live in, exclusive, experienced, college educated childcare!) in these modern times. I dreamt of learning to be like Samwise Gamgee and Mary Poppins. What lovely ideals! Do I seem foolish yet? I should.
And so I find myself in a land known mostly for warfare- both physical and spiritual, facing an upcoming fight. It will be much harder now to renegotiate these boundaries so soon, although I am gratified that at least I said, "that seems fair, but let's see how it goes," rather than, "yes that will work all year." It will be much harder to negotiate these boundaries gently now that I am angry about falling prey to tactics, and taking so long to notice the inconsistencies in the position being communicated verbally and that being expressed through actions. And yet, here there is still so very much room for growth. Instead of being able to come open-handed and give generously, and be cared for and respected in return, I must argue my worth and fight for my value against a shrewd and miserly negotiator, who does not shrink back from plying upon pity or obscuring facts. Beloved, this is the way of the wily world, and it is time to learn how to protect your good against it's abuses while living by it. To learn how to rebel against the parts of claims that are excessive while not rejecting the entire relationship-- to live in and with those who need my help and yet still would abuse it has become my most necessary skill. Is this not the heart of being salt in a world of manure? It is important that I not compromise my health to enable this woman to keep a servant who is in fact beyond her means, if she has not been lying to me about her grocery budget. If she has not been lying, better to leave now than impoverish them and malnourish myself. If I have allowed her to lie to me, it is important also for her good that I not allow her to extort unchecked. However, if I am called to serve this family, I will need to die to self a little each day to serve them. There is so much tension here. How much death is helpful, and how much enables? There is much argument to come. I dread it, and I am not confident that I will do well by her, myself or Jesus. But thank God that no matter how I do with this test, He values me the same. By Grace, and the loving reminder of my community back home, her devaluing of me will not speak to my heart, which answers only to One who saw fit to die for me. His budget does not change, and He does not reneg His promise to take care of me and be my Hope, wherever I may go.
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