Silver Lining

This business of coming home has proven to be a bit of a turbulent landing.  We are struggling to find our feet and steady ourselves, but seem to just keep stumbling and bumbling.  I feel the wear acutely, and this past week it's been noticeably hard on the kids as well.  Very, very noticeably.  The struggle and insecurity of re-acclimating to a culture while being homeless and fatherless/husbandless and not knowing where you belong or what's going to happen or having a place and no means of support...it's so hard on me, I can only imagine for them!

The good news is, we have finally secured a place to live!  And it has a pool, which is thrilling Jack to no end.  We can move in on the 23rd of the month, which is still 10 days away, but sooner than what we'd originally expected.  This item accomplished provides huge relief!...so that now my mind can wander to the hundred other stressful cares needing immediate attention. 

Most days, we feel (and act?) like we are falling to pieces, and my goal each day is to find some solace of normalcy.  But it occurred to me tonight--a nugget of wisdom gleaned from preparing the evening meal--if we're falling apart, at least it means we're tender.  We pray the tenderness will be productive and soon give way to satisfied souls. 

Debriefing

Many have been asking lately, "How does it feel to be home?"

Good question.  I'm not sure yet myself.  And I'm still trying to figure out, "Where IS home?"

It's good to be back in America for:

• an endless supply of any foods I crave, including garden-fresh produce
• a whole country full of people who speak the same language I do
• shopping where I know how to find deals
• having our own stuff, and not having to fear "accumulation"
• boat rides on the lake and walks in the field
• quaint yarn shops with community knitting and crafting super-stores with endless inspiration
• of course, being near family and friends
• little conveniences that we take for granted & don't realize till they're missing

It's also hard being back, and some of the reasons are strange:

• The landscape is very lush and green...it's beautiful, but strangely hard to get used to.  I'm kind of pining for southern California just for the familiarity in landscape.  It's crazy how the harshness endears itself to you...struggle creates the closest bonds.
• Humidity...suffocating.
• Driving is boring because people actually drive in lanes and obey traffic laws...having a hard time being okay with that.  I mean, I really shouldn't have to wait for cars to pass to pull out onto the road--fluid traffic, people!
• I miss being mobbed with people coming up to pinch my babies' cheeks or steal them away to show their friends.  I miss perfect strangers treating me like a long-lost friend.
• (disclaimer: this point is in no way intended to be directed at the people or places where I am currently located, it is merely a feeling): I feel enclosed and bound by small thoughts and small ambitions and single-paned ideas and safe actions...when I'm kind of ready to take on the world.
• Homelessness is really, really hard.  It's been enormously hard coming home husbandless with 2 small children and a load of stuff, and just kind of float in limbo with no place to belong.  We can't unpack, we can't find things we need, we can't begin the process of feeling normal, we just kind of exist haphazardly.  And those of you who faithfully read my blog (many thanks!) know how important a place and belonging is to my emotional health...so here's praying God answers soon!

Well, that's all I can think of for now!

Looking Forward...

Apologies for the long absence!  It was a combination of excessive busy-ness and a rather long internet outage.  It was very eye-opening how dependent we are on the internet; we were all crawling through the city like zombies until late in the night, seeking a place to get wired...Anyway, here is the post I've been meaning to share:

Lately, I've been feeling ready to go home.  It's not so much living in Jordan that I'm tired of, but the "camping out" lifestyle: No, we don't have to live in a tent, but we are roughing it in the sense of trying to survive in a place that is not and can not be home, with only a few of our personal belongings and none of the things that make life easier.  At home, I always considered us to be on the poor-end of the spectrum of society; but after living with even less, I am ecstatic to go home to our abundance of wealth!  A little perspective is all it takes.  

Here are some of the specific details I am looking forward to (in no particular order):

1. Having a bathtub...mostly for the kids' sakes.
2. Readily available hot water...I'm not a fan of the guessing game of when will it or won't it be hot, since it's different daily.  I would prefer to shower myself and bathe the kids when it's convenient for us rather than squeezing it in to the water's arbitrary schedule. 
3. Having a shower larger than the width of my body...it's very confining.
4. Using a hair dryer!  Again, I chose not to bring one in an effort to lighten the luggage, and I could buy a cheap one here, but choose not to. 
5. Having all the kids' toys, books, and baby gear.  It's really challenging to be without proper beds, crib, walker, high chair, etc...It may be better for their creativity to be without the toys, but it would be great to read to them!  
6. Not having to wash our underwear in the kitchen sink...What a luxury to have a washing machine and dryer!  Can't wait.
7. Having pump soap to wash our hands...This is just an issue of pinching our pennies; we could buy pump soap, but bar soap is provided for us, so it seems excessive.  
8. Being able to go to the park or museum without being mobbed by hundreds of school girls.
9. Not being stared at or treated like a foreigner.  They treat foreigners in a very friendly manner--don't get me wrong--but sometimes I just want to blend in. 
10. Walking in a stroller-friendly environment, so I don't have to worry about suddenly getting stuck somewhere or having to maneuver carrying 2 children, a stroller, and bags full of groceries up and down stairs and across busy streets. 
11. Having a car!!!  And having our OWN car.  And going un-walkable distances whenever we want.
12. Having our own stuff: our own sheets, our own towels, our own dishes, our own kitchen tools, etc, etc.  Having more clothes than just a few outfits' worth.  Having more than just 4 of each dish, utensil, or cup (which means we must wash dishes at least once or twice a day).
13. Cooking my own food!  One, for health reasons; nutrition has been a sacrifice while being here, and I want to be in control of that again.  Two, my home-maker side is itching to get in the kitchen and create delicious food and try new recipes!
14. Having hot pads in the kitchen!  I'm tired of using a towel in a flame-gas oven. 
15. Having a stove/oven that can be lit without a match.  Maybe I'm just lazy, but saving extra little steps sure does help!
16. Sleeping in a normal-sized bed...Here, they give us 2 twin beds shoved together, so someone (usually me) is always falling into the crack.  We finally had the genius idea to put the mattresses horizontal, but I still find myself falling into the crack the other way.  
17. Being able to go to play groups, Bible studies, outings with friends, social opportunities.
18. Not worrying about the language barrier whenever we want to do something like the above, or just when going to the supermarket, or anywhere really.
19. Perhaps this seems unappreciative of me, but I'm also really anxious to be in charge of cleaning my own house.  I guess I'm just one of those people who would rather do it myself...I'm just tired of having to put things away that we don't want them to touch, and being invaded every Tuesday morning, and I want to clean things when they're dirty rather than at a set time every week.  Having housekeeping service, for me, is more stressful than it's worth.  (Sorry to those of you who wish you could have it!)
20. Diving into a myriad of sewing and creative projects I have swirling in my head, that I've been designing and dreaming over.
21. Trying, in the midst of unsettlement, to create a home, an oasis of rest for our souls.
22. Buying oatmeal and cereal without paying $10/box. In fact, buying ANYTHING at regular price...it's expensive here!
23. Not having to wear pants and long sleeves when it's 90 degrees outside.  
24. When we buy something, not having to worry about "how are we going to get this home?"
25. This one is silly, I know, but: I can't wait to put toilet paper IN the toilet once again.
26. Having consistently working electric outlets.  And having proper plugs on the outlets (some of the plugs on outlets here are impossible to stick anything into...they're just poorly made).  

When we do finally go home, I'm sure I'll have a long list of things I miss about Jordan.  That's just the way it goes: we always miss what we can't have.  Which is why I'm making a very concerted effort to enjoy being here while we're here, but still savoring the promise of home!

A Day Painted Red

It's one of those days where, if you can't paint the town red, you can at least paint your nails...

Yes, we are going stir crazy. Feeling a little bit confined, a little bit constrained, a little bit trapped and caged.  These sorts of days bring on a serious case of the grumps.  These are the sorts of days that could magically be cured by a walk (or ride, for that matter!) to the park; but alas, we have no park to walk (or ride) to.  The best we can do is eat chocolate eggs hiding toy treasures inside, and dream of home, wherever that may be...

The Importance of Place

We are a nomadic family…living perpetually in a temporary state…not by choice, but rather by necessity, moving on with each new change of season.  Described like that, I guess we all are nomads, of sorts.  Life is fluid and changing, and we change with it, whether we want to or not.  As seasons change, so do life-sustaining sources, and we must forge ahead or be left wanting.  We all are nomads, especially as we believe that this world is not our ultimate home and we are only passing through.

This contemplation makes me think of the ancient Israelites passing through Transjordan: Why did 2 ½ tribes (Rueben, Gad, and the half tribe of Manasseh) choose to settle there along the journey and not continue to the Promised Land?  Was it strategic, to conquer more land?  Or were they tired of the nomadic life, and the land looked good for settling?  Numbers 32 seems to indicate the latter.  Did they miss out on God’s planned blessing by not continuing?

The logistics of our nomadic journey at the current stage look something like this: We lived in Buchanan, MI for 3 ½ years while Owen worked on the classwork and legwork of his dissertation (PhD in Ancient Near Eastern Archaeology & Anthropology).  We currently live in Amman, Jordan for 6 months while he continues to research, survey, and write under a fellowship with ACOR (American Center for Oriental Research).  When we leave here, we will live under the generosity of my family for an indefinite, temporary period of time while Owen finalizes his dissertation and defends (hurray!) and applies for jobs (double hurray!)…And then we wait…Trusting that God’s plan for us does indeed include a job for Owen.  At the point in which a job is procured, we will move to wherever in the world God happens to lead us.  In the field of archaeology, jobs are scarce, and first jobs often are not final positions but rather stepping stones—perhaps it’s the same in many professions.  As such, we anticipate a long future of uprooting and moving and re-settling. 

I am a roots-loving girl.  Roots are important for stability and nourishment.  I want my roots planted firmly in one location, and from there to spread deep and wide.  A good, solid, unchanging home seems quintessential to appreciating the rest of the world without feeling lost in it.  (I speak of my own experience; I know many solid, cultured people who had to move a lot in their youth.)  I feel so blessed that my parents were able to give this gift to me, and I still grieve that I will never be able to give this to my own children, geographically speaking.  I kind of love the tendency here in the Middle East for children to never leave home…once married with their own families, they simply add on to the family home rather than moving away.  The nomadic life is diametrically opposed to my inner make-up and preference in living.  There is something deeply comforting—vital, even—about having a place to belong, and where do you belong more than on the same plots of land your ancestors have habituated and toiled over for generations?  Memories radiate from every rock and tree and crevice of those places, from the very soil.  One would zealously do anything to not lose it or have it changed, because the land itself becomes like a part of your very self; it can be ripped away only as easily as your very soul.  It brings a deeper understanding of the tension in the Middle East, does it not?