It's been hard to meet people and such. But not hard to meet kids. I think that goes in every culture.
Our oldest started school earlier this month. And conveniently two or three of his classmates live on our street. There are several other kids on the block, most of whom remind us of the kids we knew on our old street back in Texas. And like there, our house has once again become the 'kid' hang-out. Cool.
I wouldn't be surprised if this is how the creator has us get into various people's lives.
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Meanwhile, I am having an extremely difficult time re-entering into the atmosphere. I have been having painfully strong culture shock/loneliness/depression attacks. I've been doing well for several weeks.
But this latest bout started last Saturday on a trip to The Big City to see Arcade Fire, a popular rock outfit. I have been peculiarly enamored with their music for about nine months. And their newest recording is fully dedicated to the subject of suburbia, a topic I've critically reflected on for fifteen years. Most every song reminds me of some awkward or painful childhood memory I had in the Houston suburbs.
Moving to another country, moving to a very small isolated town, approaching age 40, and hearing songs that speak painfully to me has been a tough mix to drink.
Culture shock is much like depression. Except no drugs are necessary as it will end eventually. The question is when. Some say it takes a full year to get comfortable in new surroundings.
I don't think May could come any sooner.
I covet your prayers for release from this depression related ordeal. And for a friend or two. Thank you.
We've slowly been meeting the locals. Most of these meetings happen through our kids. Our son started school a while back and is getting to know some kids, several of whom live on our street. The weather is still nice so we've been getting to know a few kids.
I am bombarded with basement remodeling. And some of it comes from my lack of experience with basements, dealing with insulation techniques and moisture and so forth.
And it is getting time to work for an income. I have met a few folks who make remodeling labor sound promising. There's much work to go around.
Lord - give me knowledge, confidence and peace on the changing times ahead.
My family is pretty much settled in our new undisclosed location we call home. The long limbo summer is over. Settlement is sweetness. Time to start finding an income...
Meanwhile, our local neighborhood culture of non-communication is as foreign to me as it gets. And I'm not that chatty of a social person. But for next door neighbors to blatantly avoid eye contact just rubs me so wrong. I'm trying to get used to it, but I feel so lonely.
Our trio of neighbors to the left, the New-Sanfords (mom, teen daughter and teen son), drove up into their driveway the other day when I was about ten feet away hacking up our long neglected cedar bushes. Just cold shoulders. I'd say hi. The mom would return the hi without looking back. I didn't know how to take that. Oh well.
Meanwhile, I'm hacking up this trio of long over-looked cedars knowing good and well it was going to take a few years before they would fill out and actually resemble desirable foliage.
Then the Creator aloud me to realize that my neighbor trio was no different. It could be a few years before any semblance of relationship ever exists. That's just the culture in River Dog.
Today I accidentally met the mom. She was working the check-out at a local grocery. Thus she was forced to acknowledge my presence. But only because it was her job. I tried not to take advantage of the situation too harshly.
"I think I'm you're next door neighbor", I said.
"Yes"
That was about all I got out of her other than her work related communications.
Tonight while picking up a couple of donated refrigerators for the Reach Out, my cousin Mark educated me slightly more on the spirits running this region: Distrust.
Distrust between whites and aboriginals. Distrust between aboriginals and christians. Distrust between wealthy and poor. And so on.
And the rumors are true: my neighbor (her name is Dana. I got that from her name tag) did lose her husband to suicide last year. Thus her kids lost their dad. Mark knew all about it as everyone in a small town would.
I can't imagine her pain.
The distrust is starting to make sense.
