I was raised in Alaska. Moving to Montana meant returning home, culturally. I knew that hospitality differed in the north. The infamous southern hospitality, where one drops by unannounced and is pressed into sharing a meal with the family, was an anomaly in the north. You called ahead if you wanted to visit. Invitations to people's homes came only after a relationship was formed. Instead of offering to have you over for a meal, a couple might invite you out for coffee. If that went well, perhaps you would take in a movie or a sporting event together. At that point, if there was an interest in becoming more than acquaintances, they invited you to their home for dessert. When a dinner invitation came, you knew that friendship was established.

I also knew that northerners were more direct than southerners. They didn't waste a lot of time beating around the bush with what southerners dub niceties, preferring to get straight to the point. They tended to say what was on their minds without couching it in tactful phraseology that might disguise it so that it was misunderstood. What southerners called diplomacy, northerners termed deceit. In the south, I was sometimes considered borderline rude. In the north, the opposite was true. Because of the southern influence in my life, I was deemed the model of diplomacy.

Needless to say, David experienced some culture shock when we arrived in Montana. While the term is usually reserved for immigrants, travelers, exchange students, and missionaries, mobile Americans encounter culture shock; they just don't always know that's what it is. We did recognize it, though, because we had lots of firsthand experience. After years of undiagnosed cultural conflict, I read a book on culture shock. I was astonished. The book was describing our early marital woes that stemmed from cultural differences. I had married into a family from a different geographical region of the United States and been shocked firsthand. When a southern boy married a northern girl, the inevitable happened. Believe it or not, one major area of difference was in communication patterns.

The problem first surfaced when David said, "Syd, bring me a cup of coffee."

Being raised in the north, two things offended me: 1. lack of courtesy; he should have said please, and 2. the expectation that I would be a good little Southern wife, anxious to wait on my husband hand and foot.

He did not understand when I replied, admittedly rather nastily, "Get it yourself."

It took time and negotiation, but we eventually figured out that our cultures were at war and arrived at some compromises.

He claimed southern English was a tonal language.

When missionaries came to our church during my childhood, I had heard about tonal languages, and they were always Asian. Evidently a Chinese missionary once prayed, "My pants which are out in the field," instead of, "Our Father which art in Heaven." By changing a few tones, he changed the meaning of several words.

David, however, claimed southerners use tones when communicating – not to change meaning but to indicate intent. Evidently in places northerners use polite terms like please, southerners use tones to get across the meaning of please. Thus, he claimed that when he said, "Syd, get me a cup of coffee," the tones implied please. Therefore, the sentence was a request and not a command.

"Try using both words and tones," I suggested, "just so I don't infer a please when none is intended."

Another communication snafu we discovered was in the area I'll call confrontation, for want of a better term. David said northerners were blunt. I said southerners were hypocrites.

We were visiting his Mama, a sweet southern dame. She was talking on the

phone in honeyed tones. I assumed the person on the other end was a good friend.

When she hung up, she turned to me and said: "I don't know why that old bag calls me. I can't stand talking to her."

"Then why don't you just tell her you don't want to talk to her?"

"Well, that would be rude."

To me that sounded like hypocrisy, but to David it was simply common courtesy.

When David accepted his first church in rural Louisiana, members of the congregation would come to David and tell him I'd been a bit abrupt in my speech or that I hadn't waved when I drove past them on the road. They wanted to know if I was upset.

This really floored me. I couldn't understand why it was abrupt to come straight to the point and say what was on my mind. I also couldn't comprehend why they would talk to David instead of coming straight to me.

This, David told me, was southern diplomacy, and I needed to learn a little. I suppose I did because when we moved to Montana, I was considered a "wise diplomat."

A friend once told me that her husband informed her that she was much too abrupt when bringing up considerations at church business meetings. He suggested she follow my example, because I could bring up the same issue in a way that no one found offensive.

Go figure.

#

"How many more speed bumps can life possibly place in mine and Aaron's road to marriage," Faith wondered. "Our personalities are opposite. Now Mama's telling me that we're also facing cultural barriers."

Faith got up and paced restlessly around her room. She needed a sounding board, but her brothers had been no help. She could call someone from church, but she didn't want to air her dirty laundry in that forum. Finally she went to her computer. She logged onto Kyra's site as Angelica. Kyra was on line.

"Hey," Faith texted. "I'm surprised to find you on line. Isn't this study hour?"

"Ditto," Kyra answered. "Aren't you supposed to be writing? You implied that you didn't have time for casual conversations."

"I shouldn't, but I'm blocked so I thought maybe I could find someone more objective to hash it out with."

"If it has to do with your character's abortion decision, I'm not particularly objective."

"No, it's not that. The abortion issue will be the major conflict, but I have to get them to that point first. I'm considering a cultural clash. Maybe she's Hispanic or from a foreign country or something like that."

"If you made her Hispanic or from another country, you'd have to do a lot of research to make it authentic. What culture do you already know?"

"The only culture I know is the north. I was born in Montana. It's a lot different than Louisiana."

"So give them a north/south cultural conflict. In fact that conflict might figure into the abortion issue."

"How's that?"

"Well, aren't northerners more liberal than Southerners?"

"They have that reputation, lol. So if I make the girl northern, she'll be more inclined to seek an abortion than her southern beau."

"That would be my take. You'd know more about that than me. Another possible twist could be that he's already paid to have one child aborted and learned the hard way that he should have stuck with his roots."

"Wow, what a great idea. Did that come from your group?"

"No one's actually put it into words. It's just a feeling I get that most women who've had an abortion have a common pipe dream. They hope that the man who helped get rid of a fetus learned from the experience, but since the abortion is often a relationship ending event, they don't ever know if it really happened."

"So I could tap into that shared fantasy and make it a reality in my book."

"Sure could."

"You told me that every abortion counselor had to have a personal experience involving the abortion issue, so that means you've been intimately involved with someone who struggled with this. Was that her dream, that the guy who paid for her abortion would've learned better?"

"Yeah, it was – still is, but she's one of those whose relationship ended. She's never contacted him to see if he's changed. She's reluctant to initiate anything. I think she's afraid she'll get burned a second time."

"But she's kept up with him?"

"A little. She knows where he lives and what he does for a living."

"So she still loves him?"

"I wouldn't say love. I mean they were pretty young when the whole thing happened. I think she just feels like something is unresolved."

"Have you offered to contact him for her?"

"That would be awkward. Can't you imagine the conversation? I'm calling on behalf of the woman who would have been the mother of your child. No thanks, that's something she needs to do herself."

"Do you think she ever will?"

"Who knows. Life happens."

"Well, you've given me some great ideas. The book might take some unexpected turns if the first girl shows up after the second one gets pregnant. I'd better get back to writing while the creative juices are flowing. Thanks for brainstorming with me."

"Any time. It's kind of fun, and talking about the possibilities for a fictional character might just help me in exploring prospective actions with my groupies."

Faith printed out the texted conversation. She sat on the bed and reread it. Even though they had never clarified whether Kyra's experience was her own or someone else's, Faith was certain that using 'she' was just Kyra's way of distancing herself from her own experience.

"Things could get complicated," Faith thought.

She called Aaron.

"I know that you don't like to talk a lot about Kyra," she told him, "but I need to ask you some things to help me work through this."

"Shoot."

"Have you kept up with her whereabouts?"

"I told you, I haven't talked to her since we broke up."

"I know, but have you kept tabs on her."

"No, I haven't. I didn't see any point."

Faith could imagine Aaron tapping his foot or pacing while he talked.

"Now that you've come to terms with the abortion, have you thought about calling her and asking her forgiveness or anything like that?"

"As a matter of fact, I did think about it. I decided against it. I might be prying open an old wound just to salve my conscience. I decided to put things in God's hands. He's a much better emotional healer than I am."

After Faith hung up, she thought, "That's what I should have done, left things in God's hands like He wanted. I just hope I haven't stirred up a hornet's nest by talking to Kyra and bringing up old memories."

Faith decided to work some on the novel. Kyra had given her some good ideas, even if they were unsettling. Maybe writing would keep her mind from speculation. It worked better than she expected. She was so engrossed in the project that she neglected the journal for a few weeks. One morning, though, she faced writer's block. She wasn't sure where the book should go. She considered talking to Kyra, but ruled that out. She had decided to follow Aaron's lead and leave that situation in God's hands. She picked up the journal, instead, hoping that reading might stimulate the creative juices.