Remedying My Cultural No-No, and Other Things

So...it feels good to sit down and blog again and not want to cry :) I'm still going through this culture shock thing...or whatever you want to call it...but I'm feeling a lot better physically, and that really helps.

We're in the heart of fall, and as the weather gets cooler and there's talk of snow coming soon, I keep thinking about the seasons. I realize that at home I've lived on the same property for nineteen years and I know the seasons like a song or a poem. I can smell the sharp tang of dying leaves and I know the cold scent of woodsmoke and frost on a cold morning. Although most people would say we don't have seasons in East Texas, I've lived there all my life, so I've at least managed to imagine some up. They're there if you know what to look for :)

Here, my internal calendar is sort of...gone...I don't know what to expect. My familiar smells are gone and I'm about to experience a season that's completely new to me: Winter! Cold winter with snow and very low temperatures. I'm not sure how low, but it doesn't really matter since I'd have nothing to compare it to to understand how it feels anyway!

So I was thinking maybe that's part of the reason for the sudden pangs of homesickness and dreams of pumpkin pies. Not that we couldn't have pumpkin pie here, but...it's really not about the pumpkin pie.

Anyway...so I thought that not only are there seasons in the year, but as people have often told me, there are seasons in my life too. And instead of focusing on what I don't have in this season, it would be much better to focus on the good things I do have and thank God for them, and enjoy them. Because eventually I'll move to another season and wistfully remember the friends and opportunities and good things here, and thus will continue this sick, sad cycle of discontentment.

So. I know that's not a novel idea, and I didn't come up with it myself. Several people have encouraged me in it the past week or two.

The Crowes are great. The more I'm with Bruce and Deb, the more I respect them. That's a big thing, because you might expect that it would be the other way around: the more you're with a person, the more you see their flaws and lose respect for them. It's true that I get to see the flaws too, just like they get to see mine. But the more I see them interact with their kids, and see integrity in their actions and the compassion and generosity they show me, and the wisdom they share with me, the more I really appreciate them.

School has still been sporadic, but we're trying to ease into some right now. It's usually something that I don't "feel like" doing at first, but when the moment comes when I'm curled up with Brent or Tucker pointing at a word while they sound it out...it's beautiful!! I love those little brains.

It seems like there's a strong emotional connection between teachers and students. Since I was homeschooled, I haven't had a lot of teachers...but the ones I've had I've been very attached to, for the most part. I've had this sense that they gave me something, shared some part of themselves with me that was precious in varying degrees. Especially in subjects I liked...like english or language. Now, when I work with the kids on reading or math, I often have this sense of growing closer to them while I'm teaching them.

There was one of these moments whan Brent and I were sitting in the huge armchair a few days ago working on reading. Usually Brent is the one I can't relate to very well. He's seven, and a grubby boy...well, no big deal. I love grubby little boys, actually. But he's very hands-on and has a really short attention span, and never looks me in the eye when he's talking to me, which drives me crazy...so of course I love him like I love them all, but I don't know what to do with him sometimes.

But, as we sat there "reading" and I watched his smudgy little finger pointing to the letters and the wheels in his head straining to crank out the meaning, love just welled up in my heart for this kid. He has a big heart, a grammar all his own, a very entertaining sense of humor, this little mind just working away...and most important, this soul that God gave him. I thought again about the quote I posted a week or two ago from Cassie Bernall's friend:

"If you love someone, their life is a gift to you."

Here are a few pictures...I took a walk to the post office on Sunday. Through the woods, around town...the post office wasn't open, of course; I just had some letters to drop off :) I get so much pleasure out of writing letters. Ethan sent me a picture of the two of us and he'd written his name on it, which really impressed me :) So I put it on my window, and now I get to see Ethan every day, with three long hairs sticking straight up off his head.

(Just outside the house, on my way to the post office. Tucker took the picture for me.)

(Tucker and Brent climbing a tree in the yard.)(This is along the new route I found to the post office. It's like Lothlorien back there. I keep expecting to see elves feasting or Robin Hood poised with his bow, ready to shoot. But the only sight so far has been a babushka gathering mushrooms (they really do that here!))(And here's a house in the neighborhood on the way to the post office. I love this color, and the house fascinates me every time I pass it.)

Along the way, after the quiet wooded part, there are small brick houses with little (or sometimes more extensive) garden plots featuring cabbages, beets, onions...the corn has died, and piles of pumpkins sit next to the houses, covered in plastic or something else. There are still lots of flowers like mums and asters (I guess). Goats and chickens roam the yards. I pass people doing their wash or working on their cars, ladies in high heels on the way home from market, often on their cell phones. Older guys ride by on their bikes in hats and sweaters. Babushkas tend hoe their gardens with Ukrainian radio playing. The sky is faintly pink and yellow mingled with overcast gray, and a bluish haze hangs over Rzhishchiv from all the leaf piles burning. Along main street it's busier because of all the college students from the nearby schools hanging out together.

I've been commiting a cultural no-no...walking around Rzhishchiv in my old tennis shoes. They aren't even nice looking tennis shoes. They're comfortable and they're what I brought, so I wear them. But apparently shoes are a really big deal here. People seem to dress up a lot when they go out, even to market. And even if you aren't dressed up, you wear nice shoes.

I don't like shoes very much, and shoe shopping ranks up there with going to the dentist for me...but this morning I finally did it. I bought some warm boots for winter. Size 41. Fur inside. I've never had long boots like this, and they embarrass me. I'll be walking like giraffe. But there's nothing else to do but freeze. One of my feet is slightly bigger than the other, so I had to get a size big enough where I can fit thick socks into them...on both feet.

So, we'll see how they work. Deb says I'll get stylish yet, but I don't know. I told her, "Oh, maybe that's why God sent me to Ukraine!" I've always felt a little behind when it comes to style, but now I figure, you know, no matter what I'm wearing, I'll always be out of style somewhere else in the world, so why bother? Somewhat flawed logic, maybe, but I take some comfort in it...

Baby bawling...must go...