Author Archives: Tracy MacDonald

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About Tracy MacDonald

A joyful writer, photographer, mixed-media artist, and seeker of beauty on this amazing journey.

The Shifting Shores of Foreign Service Life

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After twelve years overseas (in Swaziland, Egypt, Honduras, and Gabon), it was a bittersweet farewell at the Ambassador’s residence; our last diplomatic dinner for a while.

I was grateful Ramsay was home from boarding school to hear the wonderful accolades his Dad received at dinner. And, after enduring a long year and a half apart, our family would resume a life together in Arlington, Virginia, our new post for the next two years.

On our PCS (Permanent Change of Station) trip from Gabon to the States, Brad, Ramsay, and I stopped briefly in the south of France, where Rams (now 13) was enthralled with the stylish sports cars. We savored ice cream cones on the Croisette, rode a Ferris Wheel, went tubing in the Bay of Cannes, visited the famous film festival red carpet at the Palais des Congrès, and lingered over flaky pastries in cafes. And, no longer on call after more than a decade of running security, Brad began to shed work stress.

After years of being outside of America on the Fourth of July, this year felt particularly patriotic. We visited Mama in Georgia, where blossoming magnolias were still in bloom and songbirds flit through her garden. We ate ripe peaches and watermelon, enjoyed cocktails on the front porch, played gin rummy, and lit fireworks in the driveway.

Our stateside summer flew by with a lot of fun. Hovering like a shadow in the background, however, were the logistical issues tied to our international move that needed to be resolved. They quietly pressed in on us like a ticking clock: rental property bidding wars, the search for an affordable used car, and navigating school registration without an address. In the midst of it all, I was applying to jobs, prepping for interviews, and received news that I’d been selected as a semi-finalist for an upcoming TEDx event. So, I walked in loops around the park in the evenings, practicing and memorizing my speech.

It felt like a lot was happening at once, but that’s how we operate: one step forward at a time, slotting the puzzle pieces together as we tear down and rebuild our life in a new country every few years. My friend, Shari, a military spouse who gets the lifestyle, cheered me on. “I love how it’s messy, Tracy, but you’re doing it all anyway!”

Slowly, plans fell into place. We signed a rental agreement for a property we’d only seen in a video, registered for school, and Brad turned on utilities in Virginia via phone from a Florida dealership while I negotiated for a car.

Before our road trip to DC, we booked four days in the U.S. Virgin Islands at a rustic beach hotel in St. Croix. (After living in places without clean beaches and clear water, we did not take those for granted).

Unplugging was a balm for our souls. We woke to light dancing across the sea, in which swam for hours, and the only sounds were the birds, the crackle of the coral reef, and lull of the waves.

As if in a dream, we snorkeled in shoals of anchovies, glinting silver and green, and floated through swirling schools of blue tang. One magical morning, Rams and I followed a graceful sea turtle gliding across the sea floor through shafts of light.

We savored coffee and wine (well, pineapple juice for Rams) on the beach while gazing at the horizon with our toes in the sand, and fell asleep with sun-kissed cheeks, spent and peaceful.

Upon arrival in Virginia, Brad and Ramsay picked up our rental keys while I pitched my TEDx talk, Building Stability Amidst Instability (made it to the finals in February 26)! Our air shipment with a few goods and clothes arrived. Our shipment from Africa has not yet arrived; however, as a workaround, we rented a U-Haul to pick up used furniture from Facebook Marketplace.

We reconnected with old friends in the area, and serendipity led us to foster an 8-month-old rescue puppy- a sweet, fluffy Golden Retriever and Pyrenees mix, whom we just adopted. It’s sooner than I was ready to expand our family, but we love Luna already.

Welcoming neighbors on our tree-lined street have shown up with homemade cookies, a broom, and a vacuum for us to borrow. Ramsay can walk to 8th grade from home, play basketball outside after dark, and bike to a nearby pizza place with new friends: rare freedoms for this third-culture kid raised in hardship countries without sidewalks and behind high walls with armed guards.

Reflecting on our time in West Africa, I do feel nostalgia for friends left behind in Gabon. I especially miss the dramatic storms and how the Kingfishers swooped and dove in the breezes preceding rains so heavy, they blurred the water’s horizon. And on brighter days, how a watercolor palette of peaches and reds at sunset bloomed across a wide expanse of sky.

As we shift into Autumn- our first change of seasons in ages- we feel content to have successfully navigated the maze of logistics it took to get us here. The view from our front porch is peaceful. We watch squirrels forage for acorns under cornflower skies and leaves flutter down to the sidewalk in shades of deeply-steeped tea, crimson and copper. We’re anticipating pumpkins, Fall Festivals, and trick-or-treating this Halloween. The cooler weather sweeping in calls for candles, warm drinks, cozy blankets, and a good book to delve into.

For now, we’re glamping inside our rental house until the cargo shipment of household effects arrives, but until then, we’re just grateful to be here, together. There’s more work to do to make it a home, but we’ve learned that the growing of roots, routines, and community takes patience and will happen organically.

When that guest bed finally arrives, we want visitors! In the meantime, cheers to a flourishing fall,
-Tracy


Navigating Non-Linear Expat Life: A Repatriation Journey

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Collins Dictionary describes non-linear as “Does not progress smoothly from one stage to the next in a logical way…makes sudden changes or goes in different directions at the same time.”

Most days, we thrive on our non-linear, unpredictable Foreign Service journey, but It’s “PCS” season in the diplomatic community here, which stands for Permanent Change of Station, and I’m wishing for a smooth transition, especially as a U.S. federal government family in the current political climate. While bidding for our next assignment these last few months, we thought briefly our family might be moving to Turkey, then chances were good for Prague (for which I was pining), however, now we will land in DC this summer for two years.

After more than a decade abroad in Swaziland, Cairo, Honduras, and Gabon, the best part of repatriation will be the proximity to friends and family, especially, reuniting with our son who left for boarding school one and a half years ago after a military coup. We’ve had holidays and breaks together, but in between, contact has mostly been via video chats and I cannot wait for us to be back under one roof as a family.

Returning to America, we know to expect some reverse culture shock and necessary adaptations. Focusing on the positive, there is the anticipation of choosing which property we get to live in, a change of seasons (sweaters and boots!), drinking water from the tap, smooth roads accompanied by (mostly) civil driving rules, ample electricity and countless conveniences, like quick trips to the store without hunting for ingredients, browsing the library for a book in english, and the instant gratification of finding the essentials without much hassle.

But, how I will miss our dear friends, conversing in foreign languages, and the rich cultural experiences and adventurous travel. I will miss buying produce and fish from the source and the unexpected gestures of kindness, like the gardener gifting me a fresh coconut. And the stunning beauty of fiery sunsets near the equator, watching storms roll in next to Kingfishers perched on our fence, and the wild vibrancy of our surroundings.

fruit stall

I’ll even miss the frequent life lessons that come fast and hard in developing countries, challenging us to find solutions without the resources and tools we’re accustomed to; at times living with instability and even fear, operating far beyond our comfort zones. Learning to do without and living on less. And the important, constant reminders that as Americans how fortunate we are to have access to clean water and air, sturdy living quarters, stable food sources, education, accessible healthcare and the protection of human rights – all of which far outweigh what we’ve witnessed in Central America and Africa. (Unlike what the show “The Diplomat” portrays, our life is a lot more grit than glamour).

Out of necessity, I’ve reinvented myself in each of these foreign lands. Through building community and a life for our family, one hurdle at a time, I’ve grown emotionally stronger, braver, and more self-assured. Since I’ve been unable to consult overseas in my field (illicit finance, deemed a conflict of interest with my husband’s job), I’ve shifted to writing, public speaking, developing a deep spiritual relationship with nature, and cultivating a quieter lifestyle.

Repatriation will take resilience and patience. We’ll need to find a car, rent a home, register for school, and furnish a house- parts of which will come to us in stages: a few hundred pounds of household effects (clothes, linens, kitchen utensils and things needed sooner than later) from Gabon will arrive by plane, followed by crates full of carpets, furniture, and goods that will make a longer journey by cargo ship.

Back on American soil, I’ll be interested to see who I will I become. I’m secretly afraid I’ll lose my wilder spirit–that it might get buried or swallowed up by box stores instead of roadside markets, or by the ease of days spent mostly indoors and without having to tap into bravery and daring. But I imagine although our lifestyle stateside will likely be faster-paced, it will also be more even-keeled, safer, and less like living in survival mode.

As a more relaxed mama with our child at home, perhaps I’ll once again sleep through the night. And, after a long hiatus in my career, I’ll navigate reentry into the work place in a way that feels meaningful. It might take a while, but the house will come together–quirky as it may be–and we’ll start 8th grade and new jobs, discover new friends, activities, and spaces to explore. Also, after grieving the recent loss of our sweet Golden Retriever, “Biscuit,” we’ve promised our son we’ll consider becoming dog owners again once we’re settled.

On this new journey home, to blend the past with the present, we’ll bring along talismans collected during our time abroad— local art, sea glass, shells, and feathers– all imbued with moments we’ll cherish.

Cheers to “fair winds and following seas.” We hope you’ll come visit us next fall in Arlington and create new memories with us.

Peace, Joy, and Light, Tracy

Seeking Joy in the Liminal Spaces

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Lately, I’ve found delight in the unpredictable, in-between moments of life. Like a crack allowing light to seep into a dark room, there’s a fleeting, intangible something that happens to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary. I’d just returned to Gabon days earlier when my husband Brad mentioned he’d bought tickets to the Masquerade Ball on Friday night. “We can donate them if you’re too jet-lagged?” I shook my head. “I’d love to go.”

The ball was just as fun as I’d anticipated- a festive evening of mask-wearing, dancing, laughing with friends, and good food. But what left an impression afterward wasn’t the main event. It was a brief connection with a Bwiti man who wore spiritual makeup and played a small stringed instrument as the guests arrived. The words in his tribal song were incomprehensible to me, yet I was transfixed. His music momentarily transported me somewhere akin to that liminal space between dreaming and waking. That, I had not anticipated.

Looking back over our family photos of an enjoyable, action-packed summer, the most noteworthy memories were the ones unplanned and unexpected. Enthusiastic to share my love of London with my son on his first trip there, I packed in the tourist activities Ramsay had requested for our long weekend, to include fish and chips in a real pub and rides on the Tube, the London Eye, and a double-decker bus. We crossed bridges over the Thames on foot, explored the Tower of London’s jewels, torture chamber, and raven-crested turrets, and ogled the toys and food halls of Harrods (where he selected a piece of chocolate cake the size of a man’s shoe, which in the end, we couldn’t entirely devour).

Ultimately, however, our trip to London wasn’t defined by the main attractions. I shared my favorite paintings at the Courtauld Gallery with Ramsay, where we admired “The Angler,” by Seurat. (Rams loves fishing). But it was the stunning spiral staircase that captured him most, along with the man blowing enormous, playful bubbles outside of the Tate Modern that we talked about later.

On the HMS Belfast war ship, I’d expected Ramsay to fawn over the mechanics. Rather, what stood out was an interaction with a volunteer who demonstrated Ramsay’s name in Morse code using dots and dashes. Notable that day, too, were other amazing occurrences, none of which were on the itinerary: Ramsay’s penchant for smoky Earl Grey tea (a new discovery), meeting our friend’s dogs, Itchy and Scratchy, spotting rare sports cars in Knightsbridge, and being gifted a coveted Manchester United soccer ball.

On a separate journey to the south of France, Brad and I marveled at the spectacular architecture of the Mucem in Marseilles and indulged in our first Michelin-starred restaurant, Prieure, in Avignon, which was everything we’d hoped for. But it was the stunning fields of poppies, a surprising parade of sheep in Provence, and the pretty shadows cast by the Plane trees arching over the road that we talk about most- the “asides” of our trip.

And after settling in back in Libreville, we were elated at the first passion fruit growing on the vine Ramsay planted months ago- one of those bits of magic in the before-and-afters that lingers.

May you seek joy, too, in the liminal spaces,

With love, Tracy