Familiarity

I sit here, on my couch in my apartment in Canada.  There are still some boxes that need to be unpacked.  I can see them taunting me out of the corner of my eye.  It's almost like they are whispering "If you don't open me now, you never will and you'll be stuck with piles of boxes filled with stuff you probably don't need FOREVER."

But I don't feel like unpacking right now.  It's time for a break.

This last week has been a total whirlwind of activity and change.  I left Michigan, said goodbye to the friends who became family, celebrated my grandparents 50th wedding anniversary, said goodbye to my sisters, drove up to Edmonton, became an official Canadian resident, and began establishing myself in this new place.

There are lots of unanticipated differences between the US and Canada - things you don't notice until they catch you off guard.  Brands you'd normally look for in grocery stores are gone.  Prices on menus are higher.  Alcohol is not sold in anything but particular (and separate) alcohol stores.  People dress differently and have a much stronger Canadian accent than those I've met in other places.  The sun doesn't set until 10:30ish and the temperature at night goes into the low 50s.  Also, the speed limit is really slow.

There is a lot of unfamiliar and it is oddly overwhelming.  I, perhaps arrogantly, wasn't expecting that.

But this morning was my first Sunday.  I was commissioned by the elders and the pastor.  People laid their hands on me, saying prayers of encouragement, blessing and guidance.  I was encouraged to be creative, to take risks, to proclaim the gospel message, and to challenge the congregation.

While I didn't cry,  I was deeply moved as the congregation, unable to all stand around me, stretched out their hands in my direction as they sang a song of blessing for me.

In the midst of the unfamiliar and overwhelming, I found comfort and familiarity in the traditions of liturgy and in the message of the gospel.

And really, who doesn't love seeing their name on a sign?