Skip to main content

When the normal seems so foreign.

The sky was clear and there was no rain in sight. Confirmation that today was the day to mow the lawn, which had had ample opportunity to grow having been well-watered by rainy days. I put on my trainers and went into the garage telling myself:  “You can do this, it’s not that hard.” I dug out the lawnmower and tried to figure out how it worked. I got a little way there, but after figuring out how to start it (I hadn’t actually started it yet) I realised I had no idea how to turn it off. Now I realise it is very simple to stop it, you simply stop holding in the handle that keeps it on, but I didn’t know that then.

Suddenly the simple, normal task of lawn-mowing grew into a bit of a mountain, and I decided it would have to be put on hold until I could make sure it would be a safe endeavor. Stepping back inside I quickly sent a text message to my brother requesting his assistance, and a little later he popped by and helped me do a test run on starting and stopping the mower.

I successfully completed the task of mowing (think I need a bit more practise before it can be viewed as a "perfectly mowed lawn", but it is at least shorter then it was) and raking together the grass-cuttings (is that even a word), and am quite content at my accomplishment. Still, looking out at the lawn, knowing this is part of everyday life for most people, I am reminded that transition is a process, and that is has no timeframe. You walk through it one foreign taks at a time, until the foreign becomes "normal."

Popular posts from this blog

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...

Tuesday children's prayer | Handing out shoes and feeding toddlers.

No day is the same here. After getting up early (which seems to be what I do here), and eating breakfast which was bread with butter (accompanied by an amazing cup of coffee given me by an American friend), I headed to the prayer room for children's prayer. This is a prayer time where the children come voluntarily to pray before school on Tuesdays and Fridays. Entering the room I was so impressed by how it was full of children eager to pray. There were probably 60 or 70 children there, and it was amazing to see one after the other choose to pray for their families and people who are sick, and other subjects on their little hearts. It was so great and an experience that I will carry with me for a long time. After prayer it was "Shoprite" time, which meant piling into a bus with other visitors and missionaries for the weekly shopping trip. I didn't quite know what to expect, but I had a few items to buy and hoped it would be a stress-free experience. As we drove along ...