Sabbaticals with Shallow Sinks

As I was washing dishes recently in the small sink we are currently using, I thought about how similar the scene in our kitchen has been this winter to one 8 winters ago.

In both seasons we found ourselves living in houses not our own, using other people's utensils and furniture.  In both seasons we were strangers in a new land -- in a very cold and snowy land -- and the tap water was essentially undrinkable.

Eight years ago Pete had applied for a "sabbatical" at work so he could accept a Fulbright grant and teach in Moldova.  Those six months were definitely an exciting and adventurous time, but for Pete I would not say it was necessarily a "sabbatical" in the sense that it should have been restful.  He was still working and was actively providing for us and trying to figure out how to manage a household in a foreign language.

But for me, it felt like a sabbatical.  Yes, there was still plenty of work to be done -- the kids still had to be educated and socialized and fed and all -- and there were parts of living abroad that were altogether stressful, but there was also plenty of rest involved for me.

It was a rest from some of the regular social obligations.  It was a rest from maintaining our normal relationships.  It was a rest from the norm, in general.  There was more menial work (such as beating rugs to clean them, and hanging clothes out on a clothesline), but the change in routine was enough to provide refreshment.

There are some people in this world who can establish a routine in their lives, and then they're content to keep that daily routine for the rest of their lives. (*cough* my husband)  But I cannot do that.  Even if I love my daily routine, I still need to know there is a break in sight, a change in the pattern.  I'm a seasonal person -- I need the ups and downs, the feasts and fasts, to keep life interesting.

So our time in Moldova for me was a time of refreshment -- despite the fact that we had no dishwasher to use, the kitchen sink was super small and shallow, and we went without countless daily comforts.

I enjoyed being new, not being known, getting to flex different relational muscles.  We liked getting to know new people who were quite different from us. I felt less pressure to perform when I was in a society full of people who had no clue who we were, and really didn't care.

***

Last year at about this time I started to get antsy.  I loved our ordinary life with our regular routines, the kids were all in good stages and good situations, but I still found myself wanting a change.  Maybe my body and/or mind knew it had been 7 years since our last sabbatical, and the rhythm dictated that it was time for another.

I started researching options for Pete to work overseas again, hoping we could all pause our regular lives and take a break somewhere else.  Nothing panned out, though, to my disappointment.

Then this new job in Grove City began to become a possibility, then a probability.  I railed against it, repeating that I didn't want to leave our life in NC, I had just wanted a temporary pause before we resumed it.  But it seemed the Lord, and Pete, had other plans, and this past fall became a time of packing again.  Unlike the fall 8 years ago where we knew we were coming back soon, this time it felt a little more permanent.

By the time Christmas rolled around most of our possessions were sealed up in boxes, and just like 8 years ago, we were living out of suitcases and crates.

Once again the Lord provided a good temporary home to live in... but once again it meant living more "bare-bones" than we were used to.  And once again I came face-to-face with just how spoiled I have been in my regular life.

Not being able to use a measuring cups, cookie sheets or a microwave has been enough to make me complain, I'm embarrassed to say.

Living with fewer things has been good in both seasons, though.  This time our borrowed kitchen only has 4 knives and 4 spoons.  So we have to plan strategically, wash them much more often, or, most commonly, learn how to use forks for things like applying butter to toast, or eating yogurt.

This time around we have a dishwasher, but it doesn't really work.  The soap thing is broken, and the water here is so full of minerals that everything is left with white and gray streaks on it.

This time around our kitchen is small again, with not many places to store food, so we find ourselves usually just buying what we need and not stocking ahead.  Our frequent trips to to the store to buy food reminds us of our daily trips to the market in Moldova, and there is a peculiar sense of rest even in that.

This time around the water is not full of dangerous bacteria, but it tastes really terrible.  When something so elemental as water is not just readily available to be enjoyed, you notice it frequently.

But we have more time to think about food and water than we normally have in other seasons because our social commitments are fewer.  Just as we were in Moldova, we are largely unknown here, and we have not yet joined all of the groups, sports, and activities that our normal lives are full of.  It has been a good family time; many evenings after dinner we can all just go to the Y together or sit and play a game.

Attending to more of the "basics" of life, and less of the encumbering ensuing entanglements that regular life brings, has been refreshing to the soul.

***

While we have been so grateful for the housing situations that we have been given in both of these sabbatical seasons, it has still been weird to live with other people's stuff.  In some ways it much more relaxing... if something is not ideal, it doesn't really matter because it's not ours.  But, there is also a little extra tension, hoping that no one will break anything that does not belong to us.

The most life-changing aspect in both of these sabbaticals for me has been the reminder that "it's all temporary."  In both seasons I knew there would be an ending date;  soon we would return to a normal rhythm in our own home.  This gave hope when things were frustrating ("I can't wait until we have a normal-sized sink again!") and it also provided a freedom to let go.  It wasn't worth getting too worked about anything, because it would soon be over.

It will soon be over.  This refrain I say to myself often has helped me re-set in many areas of life.  It reminds me to not get too upset about anything, to not rely on things too much, to get by on less.  I should know this all the time, because everything in this world and life is temporary, but I tend to forget and cling to people, things, and ideas way too much.

For a short while after the sabbatical ends, if it is like last time, I expect I will be more appreciative of my creature comforts and the opportunity to do things like cook and clean in my own kitchen.  I will be more aware of strangers among us and what it is like to be the "foreigners."  I will be more relaxed about things that transpire in my life, because I will still have the sense that it is all just temporary.

This "re-set" will help to re-shape me.

But the lessons will eventually fade; my memory is short.  So I'm thankful for the rhythms of life God provides, and will look forward to my next season and the lessons God teaches me in it.  Even if it involves shallow sinks again.