The background:This week has been a rather difficult transition back to the D.R. The first few days I spent organizing and unpacking, while Daniel spent his evenings (after work) fixing things. The first evening he fixed a leak (well, more like a gush) in our pipe; the next night he fixed our washer. It wasn't until Friday afternoon (we came home Tuesday evening) I got out of the house and saw anyone (Jer. and I visited the school). Friday evening Daniel had a board meeting. Saturday we were in Santiago all day; Sunday we actually relaxed, and then Monday the power was out most of the day (so I couldn't post pictures!). We had tried making bread in the bread machine, but everytime it got to though the first rise the power went out. I finally baked it in our over and we now have a hard and dense (but edible) loaf of bread. Monday evening Daniel spent taking out the toilet to search for a diaper insert that I accidentally flushed down (while cleaning a really poopy diaper!). oops...
Today I went to the grocery store only to discover that my bank card was rejected. So I walked across to the bank but the atm wouldn't let me draw money. I was told I could only take money out by waiting in a line (a very long line). Since I was feeling weak and dehydrated, I was not up for standing in a long line, and gave Daniel a call. Except that my minutes had expired. Feeling panic-y and emotional (being a tired preggy does that to me) I went back to the store (trying hard to cover my tears) and explained the situation. The very kind woman at the register let me "buy" a phone card to call Daniel, trusting that he would come and pay for the groceries and the phone card. I called, my hero came to my rescue, and I felt much better (we later found out they froze many bank accounts because of some big fraud going on).
So, now for my main reason to post. I'm not writing this to complain (though it is good to vent a little) or to make anyone feel sorry for us. After all, I'm sure everyone reading this has weeks when everything seems to break or go wrong. The main point is to share my lack of contentedness (I guess that would be called discontentedness- is that even a word?). Coming back this past time has seemed more difficult than ever for me. For two weeks I was surrounded by family and friends. Now I'm home all day with Jeremiah. For two weeks I enjoyed consistent power, lots of hot water, a dishwasher, clean tap water, smooth sidewalks and roads that allow for a stroller, etc. Then we came home to the previously mentioned problems. After those two weeks of feeling spoiled, I did not want to come back. (You'd think after 4 years I'd be used to it!) And there have been many times when I've felt adjusted and content. But it comes in waves. The bottom line is this: I care way too much about my own comfot! And I know God's been working on me in regards to that for a long time. But I still have a long way to go. Needless to say, my attitude has not been the best this past week and my heart has not been joyful. It's not my circumstances that need to change- it's my heart that needs to change. God has blessed us so much, yet I still complain about the little annoyances. Our house now is so much better than the first place we lived, and yet I compare it to our parents' homes in the States.
Daniel and I both know that God has called us here. And following Him means sacrificing. The sacrifice is different in each person's life- but we're all called to sacrifice. For Daniel and I the big sacrifice is raising a family far from home and loved ones, and giving up little comforts. I know that, but part of me still fights it. Part of me wants to throw a tantrum just like a two-year old. And another part of me knows that I'm supposed to be here, that I do love it here, and that I'd rather being struggling and where God wants me than anywhere else. In His presence is the only true contentment and comfort. And in Him is the only place I'll find my peace.