Life in these United States

Living in the States is different. For example, I find that I don’t need quite as many things. Like peanut butter. I no longer need peanut butter. There’s something about living abroad that causes an intrinsic need for peanut butter. It’s not a desire. It’s a need. I suppose it’s the principle of supply and demand—since it’s virtually unobtainable in some places around the globe (such as Russia, Jordan, and Egypt) I crave it for breakfast lunch and dinner. Now that it’s readily at my disposal I find that I simply don’t need it.

I also don’t pray nearly as often as I did while living in Egypt. Don’t get me wrong: I still pray often, I just don’t find myself begging for my life every time I cross the street. The streets in America are wide; we have stop signs, traffic lights, and crosswalks; and I have faith in these inspired human conventions that are lawfully enforced. While this doesn’t lessen my faith in God’s ability to keep me safe I simply don’t feel the need to bother him with my incessant supplications every time I reach an intersection (and sometimes in between). Nor do I feel the need to sprint across the street while having an internal battle about whether or not I should keep my eyes open (usually I would end up squinting). My mom said it best when she said, “Egypt is one place where you pray for a safe journey before you leave the house and really mean it.” Amen.

I’m already beginning to miss summer, though, and I’m getting really nervous for winter. Do you know how long it has been since I’ve seen snow—aside from one solitary morning in Spain last January? It’s been well over two years. I hate the cold with a burning, fiery passion. It’s beginning to look a lot like autumn, though—fall is in the air, back-to-school sales are being celebrated nation-wide, and it’s freakishly chilly in the mornings. I am looking forward to autumn because it’s one of my favourite seasons but at the same time I’m really sad to see autumn at our doorstep because it means that my eternal summer is nearly over. I have three favourite seasons—spring, summer, and fall—but I would gladly give up both spring and fall if it meant I never had experience another winter (though I would still reserve the right to pine for snow on Christmas, but only on Christmas because snow on Christmas is lovely).

I think, despite the imminent snowfall, that we’ll survive our state-side sojourn, what with all-you-can eat peanut butter and stoplights blinking that bright red and green…