There are so many things I missed about Vancouver. So many wonderful things I forgot about or didn’t realize how wonderful they were until I got to experience them again after three weeks away.
I forgot how comfortable my bed is.
I forgot how wonderful it is to brush your teeth with tap water.
I forgot about having a beer in the sunshine with people you love.
I forgot how clean you feel after a hot shower.
I forgot that people don’t look you in the eye here, or stop to say hello to a stranger.
I forgot that people care deeply, too much, about their image and wear it all over.
I forgot that we take better care of our trees and beaches than we do other people.
I forgot that we are more aware of the death of a celebrity than the needs of our friends.
People warned me about post-trip depression. But they didn’t warn me about culture shock. Nobody told me that I would look around at my city and feel sick about how completely self absorbed it is. I don’t know what to do with this perspective I’ve gained. I don’t think selling all my possessions and moving to the African bush is the answer. I still love this beautiful, lost city and know without a doubt that this is where God wants me. I came back and I’m the same, but not. What does it really look like to be in the world but not of the world?