On normalcy

People keep asking me if it's hard to be back in PA. I appreciate their thoughtfulness in asking. Last summer, being back meant thinking hard about who I was and where I fit in, and sometimes that was painful. This year's been far easier. Culture shock has come mainly in small flashes of insecurity: feeling baffled by an iPhone, trying to get the parking meter to work, forgetting that Rendell isn't governor anymore, not knowing what Marcellus Shale is. Reminders that though I slip back into it so easily, this isn't usually my life anymore. I'm a bit out of practice.

One of my first days back, I saw a TV show about girls buying expensive wedding gowns, and I had to walk away - their extravagance made me want to cry, not laugh. That show, "Say Yes to the Dress," illustrates one of the main cultural differences that strikes me when I'm home. So much of TV, magazine, and movie content focuses on rich people: movie stars, athletes, fictional rich people in sitcoms, real Americans spending thousands on home remodeling or new wardrobes. And isn't that the whole point of advertising: making you want/need stuff you don't have yet?

I think these media are part of what enables so many Americans to say, "I'm not rich. I'm normal." It's easy to think, people in my neighborhood live about like I do, and people on TV have far more lavish lifestyles. I play that game, too: Okay, my family lives well, but we'd never buy THAT brand of car. And if we ever had a vacation house, it sure wouldn't look like THIS one. We're still at least semi-normal.

Of course, we know that many people in America and worldwide are less affluent than we are. And we're not heartless: we feel bad for those people. Those poor people. If only they could be normal like we are. Thank God that He gave me what I deserve and need, and didn't make me suffer like them. Because "suffering" must be the word that describes "not having any cars," or "doing your laundry by hand," or "sharing a room with multiple relatives," or "having no use for a bank account." Even if all of those seemed normal to our great-grandparents.

Still, though we're not suffering like them, we barely have enough. That's why my sister's fellow nurses complain about their $50,000 salary. That's why US Christians can only afford to give away 2% of their salary. I'm thankful that I haven't heard much of this attitude from people I know - that many seem more in tune with reality - but it pervades so many aspects of US culture.

I don't want to be insensitive. My dad was laid off two years ago, and we had it easier than many others unemployed in our community. I realize that even in middle-class America, economic stresses can mount quickly, to levels far beyond what I've ever known. Still, the belief that we need and deserve all we have seems so ludicrous in light of my experiences in Cambodia. There, I can never forget how rich I am. I was told early on, "You bought a plane ticket here. That alone makes you rich to most Cambodians, regardless of your spending habits here."

All the examples I listed above of "suffering" describe some of my Khmer friends teaching at Logos, who are solidly middle-class by Cambodian standards. Not only that, but they describe billions of people around the world. A paper on my family's fridge describes a "village of 100:"

If you reduced the world's population to 100 people...
1 would have a college education.
7 would have Internet access.
50 would be malnourished.

Still think you're normal?

I'm still trying to figure out how to respond to knowing I'm ridiculously rich compared with most of the world. But here's the no-brainer: be grateful! We can marvel at the fact that, out of the entire world, God put us into the tiny fraction that has abundantly more than we need. Thank God for your flush toilet, for your clean drinking water, for your mattress, for your multiple pairs of shoes. Think before you buy stuff: Is this as necessary as I thought it was? Or is it a privilege I don't mind foregoing?

And look for chances to learn about "normal" people, instead of just the ones who are rolling in even more dough than you.

Reasons to smile: PA edition

Hugs from people who love me a lot. Many hugs.

Making ice cream cake with my sister.

Peaches, cherries, blueberries, strawberries.

My mom's cooking...all of it. (Can you tell I've been eating quite a bit?)

Hearing, "I've been reading your stories, thinking of you, praying for you." Over and over.

Cheap books from Amazon to take back with me.
Free books from the library, hopefully not to take back with me.
Time for reading books.

Going on walks without sweating.

Phone conversations where nobody has to repeat themselves.

Numerous causes to be proud of my younger brothers.

Moss.

Hair that cooperates.

Uncrowded streets and peaceful roads.

The most beautiful barn I've ever seen.

Remember-whens.

Icy-cold waterfalls.

Being reminded how much of my goofiness I owe to my family.

Silence.

Cold nights and warm blankets.

My favorite old sweaters.

A park located on a lake, not a highway median.

Conversations with my family that don't involve the words, "Nope, the sound's gone now..."

My dog.

Blending in.

Stories to tell - and hear - of God's goodness and faithfulness.