This Post Is Introspective and Uneventful. Skip if You Are Not Interested.

The Alien relaxes with a book and a cup of coffee . . . perhaps
as a reward for accomplishing something difficult, like disposing
of used light bulbs or buying a loaf of bread.  

                Several years ago, my cousin Jack wrote a book that was actually published (so cool . . . Jack, if you are reading this, congratulations again). The book is called The Power of Habit, and one chapter talks about how people can develop good habits and strength of character by doing something difficult every day. He had some name for this practice -- unfortunately, I don't remember what it was. I have been thinking about this concept lately, because this move has opened up many new opportunities to do difficult things. For example, back in the States, when it was time to go to the dentist, we just went. We would already have an appointment set up with the regular P&G dentist from the last time we were there. If we had to change dates, the receptionist would gripe at me, but she would fit us in somewhere. The hardest thing about going to the dentist was the drive there. Yesterday, I had written in my planner to make dentist appointments. Before I could do it, I had to give myself a pep talk (“It will only get more difficult if you wait”), practice saying “teeth cleaning” in French, and even promise myself a reward if I made the call (I could read a few pages of a book I’m enjoying). Even after all that, and after a fairly successful conversation with a kind and patient receptionist, I’m still not confident I know when the appointment is, how long it will take, or if all four of us should arrive at once.

                French lessons are scary too. Thanks to years of teaching English grammar, I can grasp the grammar of French pretty well . . . as long as I have my rules and vocabulary handy to refer to. In a conversation with a real person – even when that person is paid to talk to me – I have much more trouble. If I could just have unlimited time to think about what I wanted to say and write it down, it would be great. That, of course, is not how real conversations work. Then there is my elderly Swiss friend, Madame Guenat. She doesn’t speak English, and she is sweet enough to agree to meet with me about every three weeks to carry on a conversation in French. Truthfully, even if she did speak English, calling up an older person whom I don’t know very well to suggest coffee would be a stretch for me. The fact that the conversation will feel like a fog with a few recognizable words and phrases drifting around in it only adds a level of challenge. Again, I usually have to bribe myself with almond croissants before I will make the call. Then I pray all the way to the Coop Restaurant, where we usually meet.

                Speaking French is not the only opportunity Geneva has afforded for doing difficult things. I am uncoordinated and far from thrill-seeking, so every time we ski, my stomach ties in knots. I hate roller coasters, and skiing is a little like being on a roller coaster by yourself, with no seat belt, and with the opportunity to run into other riders at any moment. I want, however, to spend time outside with my family. Plus I really love the scenery. So I sing little songs to distract myself (Johanna’s trick, and it’s helped her conquer the black hills, so I guess it works).  I also take the nice, slow hill about every other time to let my heart calm down.  

                Going to the post office. Running a road race. Figuring out how to get driver’s licenses. Talking to teachers about my children’s progress. Looking for volunteer opportunities or activities for the kids. Everything is new. Everything is a little bit more difficult than it would be in a familiar place . . . or even in a familiar country.      

                Our dinnertime devotional the other night was on Ecclesiastes 11:9, which advises young people to be happy, and then ends with, “know that for all these things God will bring you to judgment.”  The devotional writer’s interpretation of the passage was that what God will actually bring us into judgment for is for failing to be happy, failing to remember that “this is the day the Lord has made” failing to rejoice and be glad in it. He talked about how a lot of people go about each day with self-imposed burdens of gloom. When we first moved here, everything felt like a challenging adventure. Now, honestly, I sometimes wish I could just pick up the phone and set up an appointment in English or go next door and borrow an egg (I’m sure our neighbors back in the states are shocked how many eggs they always have around, now that we are no longer around to borrow them). The truth is, however, that being here is a huge blessing. It’s not a blessing just because we can see the mountains and we get to take enviable trips and we get to learn a new language. It’s also a blessing because it’s difficult at times – just like life anywhere – and the effort to rejoice in it requires a strength that doesn’t come from me.