It’s interesting how time manipulates the mind. For the most part, I’m in favor of this. The days after my beloved dog Clyde died, I thought the world was cruel for going on. How could it ignore the passing of such a sweet creature? One that had selflessly seen me through the rigors of middle school, the angst of high school, and the loneliness of undergrad! I hated the world for that. But time passed and now, years later, I barely smart at Clyde’s memory. It’s sweet, but it’s not painful anymore.

Snuggly Clyde just a few months before he died.

The healing time brings is a gift, but it’s passage does one thing I do not appreciate. As I flip flop from living in PNG to living in the US, I only remember the wonderful things about the place I’m not currently living. It’s “the grass is greener” effect and it drives me batty. A few months ago I hit my wall. I was ready to go back to PNG and ever since it’s been hard to be here. I’m thoroughly enjoying time with family, but my life is there and it’s perfect there… right? I mean, I only remember it being amazing! Then I start to think…

When we go back, cooking will become a challenge again. We never know what staple is going to suddenly go missing from the country. It could be oats. Or it could be sugar. Or it could be flour. Not that any of these are necessities, but I do like a good oatmeal cookie.

When I use flour (which is fairly often) I choose to sift. Many missionaries will scoff at me for this, but if I can get rid of bugs, I’ll do it. I haven’t sifted a bag of Flame Flour yet that hasn’t had some wriggly worms or black boll weevils in it. Wriggly as in “still alive.” Gross. Again, this is a time-consuming and frustrating process that I choose to put on myself. However, it is really nice to be in the States where I can both choose to not sift and know that my flour is relatively protein-free.

When we return, I’m going to sweat in places I forgot existed… in the middle of the night. It’s hard to remember what it’s like to sit in sweltering heat 24/7 when you’re enjoying the wonders of temperature controlled housing. I do remember sitting and staring at Brian while we wallowed in our shared misery on a Saturday afternoon, but it’s such a distant memory. I have to really think hard and, even then, surely it wasn’t as bad as all that!

When I go to do laundry that first time, it’s going to hurt. There’s just something about being able to do your laundry whenever you want to, day or night. Doing load after load of diapers in our quasi-outdoor washing machine and then hanging them on the line, hoping for sun, is going to wear on me.

Let’s keep on the theme of machines: the dishwasher. I do remember nights where the cares of the day and the heat of the night combined to create combustible stand-offs between Brian and myself. Only one could stand at the sink, so who would it be? Sometimes we were gracious and volunteered…. and sometimes not so much.

I could easily continue this list and do the same of living stateside. There are lots of hard things about being here that I totally forget about once I’m in PNG grunting through the incomplete list above. And in reality, it’s not time manipulating me, but one of those fallen humanity things that causes the “grass is greener” effect. Living with a foot in two worlds is hard, but it gives me the opportunity to embrace an attitude of being discontent or embrace an attitude of acceptance. I wish I always took the easy road and chose to gracefully accept what God has put directly ahead of me, but alas. I’m Hannah and will always battle Hannah. Fortunately for me, His grace is greater.