In Elementary school, I moved back to Connecticut from Belgium. My family spent 3.5 years of my early Elementary time period in Northern Belgium. I grew to think of this area as my home. Going to an international school, I had friends from all over the globe. We were all children in a foreign environment. There were very few social prejudices, the children were liked or disliked for personality or character, not for societal concerns. I was comfortable and flourished in this environment. I was incredibly outgoing, I had some good close friends who were inseparable. Additionally, I had been raised Christian and accepted Christ at a young age. I didn't have full knowledge of the implications of that decision, but I knew it right to follow Christ and that He cared and died for me.
Then came The Move.
We moved to a mid-sized town in Connecticut that believed that it was still a small town farming community even though most of the population commuted to work. I don't know if there was anything unique about the community (that it was any more sheltered than other communities: there were few minorities, and the ones that were there acted "white") that contributed to my struggles. I was immediately ostracized by my classmates. I was a small smart kid with a funny british accent. I didn't know about all American things like football (soccer?) or Thanksgiving (what about Guy Fawkes day?). I also didn't know about other American things like discrimination or intolerance or even cruelty or blatant hatred.
I knew then that I was different. I didn't fully know how different, but I knew I was.
