I’m sitting in Wegman’s, a store you won’t find in Maine, in the huge area for people who want to eat food made on the premises. The WiFi is free, and the sodas comes from an automated soda fountain. Across the table, kathrynzj is working on her laptop, and I’ve been learning how to find a Word Doc in Dropbox, open it in Pages, edit it, then save it as a Word Doc again in Dropbox–all on my new iPad Mini.
I might as well be on Mars, I am so far away from Wednesday afternoons with LP and my laptop at Arabica.
A driver’s license, a library card, a new license plate, an AETNA card for the dental plan all claim I live here now. I’ve had mail from not one but two churches (Presbyterian and UCC). I’m learning the difference between the Giant, Weis and, yes, Wegmans. These are superficial adjustments, like learning how to work a ridiculously complicated remote control. (What the heck is FIOS, anyway? You kids get off my lawn.)
Even when a person is happy, a big moves means some complicated adjustments. I’ve hesitated to rhapsodize about the good parts because certain people miss each other. I’ve hesitated to whine about the ways I feel a bit displaced and disconnected because the reason I made this move is because certain people missed certain other people.
And because I believed, and still do, that God called me to it.
“…and do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10b
I am admittedly ignorant of Nehemiah. The longer sense of the passage is this: the people are hearing the word of the Lord, and they are rejoicing and weeping, because God’s love is a lot to get your head around, really, but they are reassured that it is God’s good day. Go home, eat and drink, because the Lord’s Day is not for mourning and weeping. Make arrangements to care for those in need, yes, but seriously, be less serious. Eat the fat and drink the sweet wine.
Somewhere here in South Central Pennsylvania, between the places I’ve fallen off the GPS grid and the places that now feel as familiar as home could ever feel, is God’s joy for me. I keep trying to call it a thing I’ll do, but kathrynzj points out that it’s enough to be here and be me. This bird is having Sabbath in her new nest, and it’s okay.
Believing that may be the biggest adjustment of all.