We are still emerging from our African life.  Culture shock has made me cautious this  time around.  I feel shell shocked, like a tourist  back to see somewhere I visited long ago.  I sense familiarity but am surprised by reality.

Making lemon poppy seed muffins last week turned into a long lesson in culture with comments from kids about the eggs (why are they white? Why do they have numbers and letters stamped on them?  Why are they so big?  Why do they stay in the fridge?) among questions about many other things.

And our first trip to the library today was thrilling to all as we talked about buying vs borrowing, library cards and fines, and availability of books.  We were thrilled to find books long desired and free for the reading.   Finding old favorites on the shelves in multiple copies kept Quinn loudly exclaiming around every turn – time for a talk about voice volumes and American culture!

We have yet to  visit a grocery store (please no!), or do much of any shopping but the kids had an amazing time visiting drive throughs on our trip south last week.  Quinn had heard stories of restaurants where they hand your food through a window and he was not disappointed by the experience!  They pled for highway stops just to experience the radio order and the friendly hand extended to our car. . . . .

Driving back and forth to Annapolis is full of unexpected wonder as we discover license plate differences (one for each state?! Really?! What about for each country?  I think I just saw a license plate for India, Dad!!)

Enroute to Tennessee late last week I limped (TERRIBLE infection in my leg) into a gas station with my children for a potty break. “America’s gas station bathrooms are BEAUTIFUL!” Naomi said.  “And the gas station stores are better than  Kampala!”   Strolling up to the desk I was surprised by the clerk who wanted to make conversation and asked me, “how are you, REALLY?”  Discovering that the random people around me not only speak my language but a similar dialect has not ceased to shock me and I found myself scrambling to orient myself and answer her.

“Didn’t that lady have what you call a ‘buckaroo accent??’” , asked Quinn as we exited the store. Um, yea.  My children are open to all cultures and races but perhaps not too sensitive to the south.

These are just a few random snippets from our lives right now.  Full lives.  Exciting lives.  Good lives.  God continues to show us the way one step at a time or sometimes a few weeks ahead.  And we continue to enjoy the journey, not without fears or tears but with much learning.   More stories to come.