Homemaking

We made it and are slowly adjusting to life abroad. Marilynne Robinson talks a lot about the sublimity of the mundane, and I if I may use her idea crudely, thus far this seems the best way to describe adjusting to life here. It looks like the U.S., feels like the U.S., but little things remind us that it is not home; the shape of the lampposts, the way roads are organized, the Queen's image on currency (Canada is still considered a constitutional monarchy). But at the same time, it is mildly shocking that I am not more shocked by how different it is. Perhaps there is a mercy in that we cannot really adequately compare two realities because we only ever occupy one reality at a time.

About a week and a half ago we rolled over the border, got our visas, and arrived at our new apartment. We have been very happy with our current living arrangement, which affords us a good amount of light– important for the long wet winters of Vancouver– and space. We have actually discovered that our current furniture doesn't take up enough space. So, in an effort to alleviate the spaciousness I did what any responsible husband (or Frasier) would do, I bought an ugly chair. I think there's an interior decorating idiom that says something like, "dissonance takes up space." Bethany was hesitant but eventually conceded that if it made me happy, I could get it. And it does make me happy, it is the perfect reading chair. And to boot it's ripe for redemption– which in this case would mean some new seat covers. We'll see how long the chair lasts before it runs out of conditional love.

Furniture aside, the difficulties of the transition have been good for reminding us that we are here for a purpose. It has also allowed Bethany and I a lot of good time together reading, exploring the city, and trying to establish routine. For these reasons, and in spite of the trials, this is a very sweet time, full of reminders that our God does indeed care a great deal for us.