Thing Number 3 that Used to be Normal and Now is Not

Having to clean up the dishes on the spot for fear of an ant (or larger Outside Thing) infestation.

I really am a fairly clean person and I have always enjoyed doing the dishes as it makes me feel like I have accomplished something. I have even been known to end up with some roommate issues because of my particularity of not leaving dirty dishes in the sink (some might call this particularity being a tad too Type A). However, this all came into handy when I moved to the DR and realized that even the Type B's were forced into Type A-ness when it came to dishes unless they wanted to serve as a film site for the Discovery Channel (seriously, I watched in amazement at the persistence, force and strength of an ant colony). Those buggers would find even the smallest crumb and invite others in for a party. I often kept flour (who knew ants like flour?) and cereal boxes in the freezer to kill the ants. And never, ever would I leave my counter looking like this after dinner:

Which is exactly what I did the other night as my friends and I moved to the front porch for drinks after dinner.

Interestingly enough, I think I am less Type A about the dishes than I was before I moved to the DR--simply for the sheer novelty of leaving something on the counter (even overnight!) and not find yourself under attack. Tracy, my first roommate in the DR, visited me last winter and also commented at one point, "isn't it great that you can leave food out without worrying about animals?" Freedom.

Sidenote: speaking of animals, we have one living in the house. Not a pet mind you, more of a squirrel or raccoon type (definitely qualifying as an Outside Thing) that woke me up at 6 am as it was scratching the sheet metal covering the living room vent. Critter Control comes tomorrow, no worries. I'm sure I'll sleep great tonight.

Thing Number 2 that Used to be Normal and Now is Not

Having to take your car into the shop if your horn is broken.

A few days ago I was riding in the car with some friends through one of many construction zones that currently exist in Holland. In the midst of a bit of mayhem, we found ourselves behind a car attempting to turn left, with a sign directly to the right of the car that clearly indicated that this was a no-no. Joel sat patiently and after a few seconds I couldn't help it and said, "Honk. Honk! This is your chance to use your horn!" He didn't honk. The car eventually turned and we went on our way.

When I first learned to drive in the DR people would jokingly say,"yeah, here you take your car in if your horn is broken." The thing is, it's not a joke. Driving without a horn in the DR is dangerous for everyone involved (including anyone in your car, anyone in another car, the 5 people on the moto next to you, and the cow wandering aimlessly down the street). At first, I found it annoying and, being the good Dutch West Michigander that I am, even rude. It didn't take long to realize: honk or die. Granted, there are times when the honk is perhaps overused--it was almost like it was a contest to see who could honk first when the light turned green to urge the cars to get on with it already (which always struck me as extremely ironic for a culture that doesn't seem to hurried about most things). As with other things, I adapted and realized that the horn really is a lovely (and practical) part of the car.

That is why I love looking for opportunities to honk here in the States (another reason I may need to move to bigger city). It's tricky since someone can basically almost kill you as they cut you off on a highway, or sit at a light for 10 seconds after it turns green and you look like the idiot (or jerk) if you honk (again, extremely ironic for a culture that seems hurried about most things). I remember my sister even telling me about a friend of hers who got a ticket for "obsessive use of the horn" upon honking hello to some friends on the street.

Cars come with horns for a reason...I think it's time we bring back the honk.

Image from free.foto.com

Introducing: Things that Used to be Normal and Now are Not

A few months ago when I was Spring Cleaning I discovered this:


A hole about the size of a dime in one of my screens. At first, I was quite consumed by this hole and had visions of all sorts of Outside Things making their merry way inside. And since another one of my screens was not quite in properly, there was at least two entry point for these Outside Things. I remember contemplating calling my neighbors down to help me pop the one screen back in and trying to find some duct tape to temporarily fix the hole. I was quite obsessed about it for a few of days.

And then, it dawned on me: I had lived five years of my life without screens in the Dominican Republic and didn’t think twice about it.

Granted, Outside Things in the DR didn’t include squirrels; but it did include lizards, flying ants, regular ants, cockroaches, rats, mosquitoes and little boys who took advantage of the wide slats of the window and managed to steal the car keys from my kitchen table which was a good five feet from the window. Having screens wouldn’t have stopped some of the Outside Things from getting in anyway, and since hardly anyone had screens it actually didn’t cross my mind to get them.

I often think of myself as having to figure out “how to live like an adult” twice in my life. Phase One happened in another country (I moved to the DR three weeks after graduating from college) and the second time is still underway (Phase Two started about four years ago upon moving back from living in the DR for five years). At first some of the differences were glaringly obvious, but now I don’t think too much about the differences. That is, until something like a dime sized hole in a screen causes me to stop and think about what my life was like in Phase One of becoming an adult.

Thus I have decided to start a mini-series of sorts: Things that Used to be Normal and Now are Not.

Some caveats about said series:

1. This is not an attempt to claim that one way is better than the other or even more “normal” than the other. For at some point in both Phases I have had things shift from “normal” to “abnormal” and vice versa (i.e. my first few weeks in the DR I probably did get the heebies that there weren’t any screens on the windows).
2. This is also not an attempt to pull the “back when I was a missionary we had to walk five miles for water—uphill both ways in the snow” (this obviously is not true because I lived in the Caribbean, and (most days) had running water).

Things that Used to be Normal and Now are Not is more for my own benefit as I have seen that thinking through the differences between my Phases of Adulthood explain a bit why I am the way I am about certain things. Moreover, thinking through these differences gives you one big fat perspective check. So, here’s to a new series…and I welcome anyone who has had a similar experience to share their own Thing that Used to be Normal but Now is Not.

I Heart My Honda

Lest you think after my last post that I play favorites in regards to my means of transportation, I thought I would dedicate a post to another love of my life: my Honda Accord. She may not be a beauty, but she’s gem.

Nope, that’s not dirt on the front bumper, nor is it dead bugs. Apparently some Hondas made in ’98 received a bum paint job. Just last week someone commented on it because they know someone else with the same problem and they suggested we start a group to file a class action suit. That sounds like a lot of work and, quite frankly, the peeling paint makes it easy for me to find my car in a parking lot.

I love my Honda because she drives like a champ despite her age, has some funky electrical quirks (I’ve always found quirky people endearing, so why not cars?) and she came with an old school car phone system, including the actual old phone that you can still charge up and play Snake on when you are stuck in traffic. What I may love most about my Honda, however, is how she is a tangible reminder of how God really does indeed provide exactly what we need (and even want).

The story goes like this:

I was living in the Dominican Republic and was on my 2nd vehicle, a little Toyota Tercel. The Tercel was also quite endearing after driving a ’74 Nissan Patrol that drove like a tractor (you turned it off by pulling a kill cord) and left you smelling like diesel anytime you rode in it because fumes would seep up through the floorboards. I loved the Tercel even after I had to have the engine rebuilt (a story of love, loss and enduring friendship despite a cracked oil pan resulting from said friend driving my car) and I loved it up until it was totaled on a mountain road as a drunk driver swerved into my lane. Which resulted in again not only dealing with police stations and Pokemon notebooks, but also insurance companies, car dealers and pervasive thoughts of “get me out of this country….now.”

Right about this time I remember talking with Jen and Scott who had left the DR and moved back to North Carolina. I remember Jen telling me about their transition back and all the details that went with moving a family back to the States after 10 years overseas. And I remember being a bit covetous when she told me that they were driving a Honda Accord that her brother had sold to them dirt-cheap after driving it for business (I don’t know much about cars but know enough to know that “highway miles” is supposed to elicit an “ahh” along with a nod of approval). In fact, I vividly remember thinking to myself, “Oh, that sounds nice. Maybe someday I’ll live in the States again and if I do I hope that I get to drive a Honda Accord” (said in a dreamy, longing voice, most likely punctuated with a sigh).

Fast forward three years: I’ve just moved back to the States after 5 years in the DR. Scott and Jen drove up to Michigan from North Carolina to attend the wedding of mutual friends. Scott and Jen were asking me what the transition had been like so far and I mention this, that and the other thing including the fact that I was anxious to have my own transport again. Scott looks at me and says, “Would you want to buy this car?”

“This car” was the very Honda Accord that I had pined for three years earlier. I mean literally it was the same car. True story. Why yes, yes I did want to buy that car. So, I also got a steal of a deal and it has been the smoothest car relationship I’ve ever had: four years and going strong.

I remember reading Richard Foster’s book Freedom of Simplicity the very first summer I spent in the DR. Great book….challenging book. One of the things he encourages is to pray about things before you buy them to see if God will provide what you need before you buy it. Now, I am pretty sure he was referring especially to major purchases and I remember thinking, “that seems like a good idea….buuuut, so like, how long do you have to wait? How much advance notice do you need to give God? Should I pray before I buy my groceries? Does it “work” best if you give God specifics or just a general idea of what you are looking for?”

I think about this every time I think of my car. I almost felt like I needed to pull an OT move and rename the Honda “el-something-or-another-cool-sounding-in-Hebrew” (roughly translated: God Provides) because I really do believe that God desires to provide for us. And I really do believe that we muck it up not only for ourselves, but also for others, when we get anxious, greedy and impatient when it comes to our needs/wants. And while I don’t believe that there is some magic formula to how it works, I do believe it has a whole lot to do with perspective and patience as well as some intentional sorting through needs versus wants.

I Heart My Honda.

And, as cheesy as the next sentence I am about to write is, I Heart My Honda because it reminds me that God Hearts Me (and yes, if I could figure out how to embed the chorus of Our God is an Awesome God or Shine, Jesus Shine into this post I would).