Wednesday, 28 July 2010 19:04
The kids and I have been home six weeks now, and we are still enthralled by the little things. For one, the miracle of having everything around us happen in our own language still seems...well, like a miracle. The fact that someone bags my groceries at the supermarket may never lose its freshness for me. At first my daughter and I were trying to do it all ourselves—playing that favorite European supermarket game "Race the Cashier"—until it dawned on us that the baggers don't really want us to help. These smiling people want us to stand out of the way and simply watch as they deal efficiently with our cold, our produce, our health & beauty. They even chat with us, and wave us off at the end with the cheery advice to “have a nice day.” All for free. It's like having my own personal grocery store servants.
I love the library. I mean, I've always loved the library, but now I love it with this little electric tingle that goes all the way to my fingertips every time I step through the doors. I've joined a Shakespeare discussion group and am participating in the adult reading program, through which I just won a $20 Borders gift card. I mean, winning free books by reading other books: can life get better than this?
Kopek, who arrived on American soil with Tim just one month ago, is also loving the little things (little pieces of bacon; little crusts of toast; little ends of sandwiches....) She's living with my grandmother, who makes her wildest dreams come true by feeding her all sorts of things that ruin her digestion. Kopek secretly hopes we never come back for her.
There are things I miss about Russia, of course, especially the people. I want to go around to all the local colleges and gather up the Russian students and take them home with me. I miss the food too (My book, Russian Salads and the Women Who Love Them Too Much will be available in stores this fall...) I am appalled at the prices of fresh fruits and vegetables here. Frankly, most of the time they don't even taste like fresh fruits and vegetables. I wonder why everyone doesn't have a garden. Also, can anyone tell me why, in America, it's the really terrible bread—the kind that tastes like Windex, and stays “fresh” for two weeks—that's cheap, while the good bread is expensive? I mean, shouldn't it be the other way around? The Russians are way ahead of us on this, folks.
Tim and I just spent a week in Colorado at a conference with our mission, WorldVenture. My parents kept the kids for us and entertained them in high style, with swimming, boating, trips to local plays, and blueberry picking. The kids also got to help out with all the babies—and lo! they are an great multitude in my family just at the moment—which is a great experience for them. Now, we're back in Maine, living across the street from 3 cousins who are their ages. Mostly, I catch a glimpse of them as they head out the door in the morning, and see them again just in time to say good night at the end of the day.
It's easy enough with family, but we are all a little nervous about re-connecting with the friends we left behind nearly 3 years ago. What if they've all moved on, and don't like us anymore? What if we have nothing in common? What if they start talking about iPhone apps and sports teams, and we can't hold up our end of the conversation because we have no idea what they're talking about? These are some of the hard parts of re-entry. So drop us an e-mail or give us a call. Reassure us that we still fit here, because we don't always know that. Chances are, we'll be in your church this summer or fall, and we'd love to talk to you, as long as we don't have to talk about sports teams. Meanwhile, I hope you'll also have the fun of re-noticing the wonder of the little things around you. Hug your grocery bagger the next time you're in the store. And don't forget to have a nice day.
