Panic

I had a panic attack at the grocery store yesterday.  I haven’t had one of those in more than 3 and a half years.  I’m not sure if the attack was actually sparked by the Austrian store or the thought that in about 6 weeks I will be shopping in an American store.

Now many of you who have never lived in another culture may be grinning from ear to ear or maybe even laughing over the absurdity of a “normal” person having a panic attack in the grocery store. And that’s okay.

But I will never forget the first few months of grocery store shopping in Vienna.  I entered this store that was smaller than many American convenience stores and was expected to satisfy the hunger of my family from these shelves.  I didn’t know what anything was and I couldn’t read any of the labels.  Packaging and presentation were different than I expected like mayo and mustard came in tubes, not jars.  And although the shelves were stocked full, selection was limited. Many days I cried in frustration in the aisle of the store.

But over time, I got used to shopping in this way.  My vocabulary increased.  We began to find our favorite items and have the courage to try new things.  And then I would only panic when new problems arose.  What do you do when you break something in the store and no one speaks English?  What if the cashier says a sentence you weren’t expecting and don’t understand?  What if the number screen is broken on the cash register and you don’t know how much you’re supposed to pay even after she’s repeated the amount 3 times?  And even then, you finally learn to humbly do the best you can.

Now I am freaking out about returning to the States.  (I know you’re smiling even bigger now.)  The smallest stores in Midland are at the least 10 times larger than my store in Austria.  The selections are astronomical in numbers. So instead of choosing from 12 breakfast cereals, I can choose from 1200.  I will be able to understand every announcement, every conversation and read every label.  People will talk to me in the aisles even if I don’t know them, and I will be expected to answer back.  I will be able to shop for more than one day’s groceries at a time and pack up an entire car full of yummy goodies.  And none of these thoughts comfort me.

It will be harder for us to go back than it was for us to adjust to living in Austria.  And that’s not just in grocery store shopping but in every aspect of our lives.  And maybe that’s why I had a panic attack.

Shattered

The week of Thanksgiving, our world was shattered with the news that we would no longer be serving at the International Christian School of Vienna.  In one moment, without warning, we lost our whole lives.  Our home, our job, our kid's school, our ministry, our income, everything gone.

Our pain was almost unbearable and then we had to tell our kids.  Bearing our kid's pain was excruciating.  Even several weeks later, the emotions and shock of it all are difficult to process and oppressive to carry.

We don't really have a plan for what's next and we don't really know how we are going to get back to America by some time in February.  This was not our plan and in the deepest, darkest hours, it is easy to nurse anger and bitterness and hold them close to our hearts.

In the first stack of papers I cleaned preparing for another huge, overseas move, I found this letter given to Joe at graduation this past year by one of our graduating students.

"Dear Mr. Overby,
This letter is just to express my appreciation for the patience, hope and support you have given me in my time in the school. You have truly helped me stand where I am today.  I will never forget all you have done for me.  You have changed ICSV for the better, you create an environment and mood in the school.  So thank you for everything.  I wish you and your family all the best in the future and I would really like you to know I would never be here today if it weren't for your support.  So thank you! And thank you again so much! - J"

The last 4.5 years of our lives weren't wasted if we helped this one student.

And God has a plan.  God's plan is always better than ours, no matter how much the plan hurts.